Separated
by Truvoyal
Summary: This is the third story in the series begun with Betrayal? and continued with Courtmartial. What happens on the Enterprise when Kirk is no longer her Captain? And what happens to Kirk when he's captured by the Klingons? Rated T for violence.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: Warning! This story is NOT canon. Please read author's profile before proceeding, lest you be very annoyed at this AU. Also, this is the third story in the series, and knowledge of the previous stories is assumed without summarizing here. Lastly, I am continuing the convention of using asterisks to denote mental conversations. Personal thoughts and dialog with God remain in italics.

Chapter 1

James Kirk left the _Enterprise_ quietly, without any fanfare or audience.

*Spock, are you still there?*

*Yes, Jim.*

*That was easier than I expected.*

*I am glad.*Spock said nothing more.

Kirk knew the whole thing was a bad idea, but he didn't have the heart to tell Spock to cut it off, at least not while there was no visible danger.

It took another hour for the repair crews to finish and the _Enterprise_ to depart. But finally Kirk was alone with his new crew. They stood around somewhat awkwardly, waiting to see what he would do.

"I'm not much on speeches, so this'll be short. My name's Jim Kirk. I'm nominally in charge here. But you all know a lot more about this outpost than I do. So if you see me doing something stupid, I expect you to say so.

"I don't stand on ceremony. You don't have to address me as 'sir' or even 'Captain'. In a crew this size, first names are fine with me - whatever you're comfortable with. In a crisis situation, I do expect you to respect the position. I'm responsible for your lives, and my decisions will reflect that responsibility. My biggest concern right now is a possible return of that battlecruiser.

"Lt. Adams, I understand you're second-in-command here. What would you like me to call you?"

"The first name is Don, sir."

"And the rest of you?"

The cheerful young African on Kirk's left spoke first.

"Everybody calls me DJ, 'cause my name's not pronounceable."

"I'm Leon, sir." The next man's face had an earnest look.

"Burt." The last one looked sullen, but Kirk let it go.

"Thank you. Don, which of the four of you knows the most about our defensive systems?"

"That'd be Burt or myself. Burt's been here ten years. DJ's been here two; Leon only three months."

Kirk put DJ and Leon at the console monitors, and spent the next two hours discussing defense strategies with Don and Burt. Encouraged by Kirk's questions, Burt opened up and talked. He seemed much less sullen as Kirk respected his opinion.

"So what you're saying is that we'd last only a few hours against a concerted attack by a battlecruiser with typical weaponry. Standard procedure in such an event is to send out a distress call and then abandon the post in the lifepods. And even if we tried a few tricks like what you've mentioned, we'd only gain at most a day - not long enough to expect a rescue to arrive. Do the Klingons know how bad our defenses are?"

Don replied. "Probably. But the outposts were never designed to repel an attack - only to keep watch. The principal deterrent is that an attack constitutes an act of war, and they don't want to start it any more than we do. At least, we live with that hope."

Kirk asked how the lifepods worked. Burt told him in considerable detail. Then he asked about demolition equipment.

"Depends what you want to blow up," was Burt's response.

"A lifepod."

"You mean, like a decoy?" inquired Don.

"Not exactly. If I wanted to destroy a lifepod I was in, how would I go about it?"

"Suicide?"

"No. A timed delay."

Burt said he could rig one of the lifepods to self-destruct. Kirk sent him to do so.

"Don, as second-in-command, there are a few things we need to discuss."

He told Don what he expected to do when the Klingons returned, and what he needed from Don. Then they discussed scheduling of personnel. Kirk wanted to take two of the three shifts himself. Don objected, so they agreed to rotate the double shift.

"Can I ask you a question, sir?"

"Sure."

"You've made no mention of the fact that I'm blind."

"What about it bothers you, specifically?"

"Well, wouldn't it be better if you put Burt in charge?" Don asked tentatively.

"Is that what you think, or is that what he thinks?"

"He doesn't talk to me unless he has to, but I'm sure it's what he thinks."

"And what do you think?" Kirk wasn't sure where this was going.

"Burt was passed up for promotion because he lacks people skills. And it's too bad, because he's a genius with anything technical."

"You're still talking about Burt. What about the blindness?"

"Oh, that's no big deal. Occasionally it's a nuisance, but Dr. McCoy said I should get my sight back soon. The rest of them did; mine's just taking longer."

"So even though it's not a problem, you think I should use it as an excuse to give Burt command."

Don shrugged. "It would make it easier to live with him."

"Will he take orders in a crisis?"

"Yes, he will."

"And how would he do giving orders in a crisis?"

"I don't know."

Given that the latter was more critical, Kirk shook his head. But he tried to suggest a positive alternative. "Does he know what you think of his technical skills?"

"Probably not."

"You might look for a way to tell him, without making a big deal out of it. Meanwhile, I'm afraid you're stuck with the job."

xxxx

Lt. Cmdr. Chuck Byrd arrived a few minutes early to the 0600 breakfast meeting the morning after the _Enterprise_ left Kirk at Outpost 67. His assignment the previous day had been general crew morale, rather than study of one officer. Consequently, he had spent the evening on the Rec Deck. The majority opinion was that Spock could run the ship blind, with his hands tied. Young they weren't too sure of. Those who'd seen the show on the Hangar Deck were duly impressed. Others adopted a 'wait and see' attitude.

More than half the crew had their eyesight back, so there was a fair amount of teasing of those who didn't. Of the observers, Sam and Gliff had never lost their sight; only Lila had regained it. That left Chuck and Sullivan still blind. Lots of horror stories were circulating about the process of returning sight. One of the rumors was that Sickbay had run out of pain medicine. Chuck hoped the rumor was false, but he was highly tempted to try it without medicine, just to see if he could.

Sullivan assigned him to Young that day. "I want to know what's different, now that Kirk is finally off the ship."

Chuck wasn't sure there would be any difference, but he kept that opinion to himself. Young spent two hours on the Bridge that morning, as was his custom. Then he toured the ship, spreading his diplomacy everywhere. Chuck gathered the purpose of the tour was to prove he could do it blind. Chuck was glad for the week's practice. He didn't get lost either.

That afternoon Young called a senior officers' briefing. Chuck wondered if he would pull out the role-playing game again, but he didn't. He asked first for a report from Scotty.

"All essential systems 're workin', sir. But I've had maybe a hundred calls from folks whose workstation isna' functionin' yet. An' o' course, none o' the equipment on the Rec Deck is up an' runnin', exceptin' the food processors. We're workin' round th' clock, sir, but twenty o' ma best people 're still blind. An' like I told Cap'n Kirk, we're havin' ta replace ever' circuit on th' ship. Takes time, sir, but we're doin' our best."

"I know you are, Mr. Scott, thank you. Dr. McCoy, how are things in Sickbay?"

"Things are looking up. I've got almost all my staff back on duty. We've discharged enough people that it's no longer wall-to-wall bodies down there. Too soon to tell on the eye replacements. All cases of deafness have recovered their hearing. A little over half the cases of blindness have recovered their sight.

"You may have heard the rumors: We did run out of pain medication twice yesterday. And it may happen again. The need for it seems to come in waves, and we just can't keep up. My only advice is don't wait til you're in agony, because the first time you ask, we may not have any. Also, get yourself lined up with a buddy. Don't try to make it through by yourself. I hesitate to quote you statistics, 'cause it's likely to be worse for you all. But plan on being out of commission at least eight hours. It'll almost certainly hit you sometime in the next week, but probably not so suddenly that you can't take steps. Any questions?"

"Any opinions on crew morale?"

"I talked to Tanzer this morning. There's a lot of teasing going around. It's how they cope. Most of it's not malicious. It'd be nice if we could avoid any more scenes like the one on the Rec Deck last night."

They had all heard about it. Within minutes of each other, two crewmen had collapsed, screaming in agony, and clawing at their eyes.

"Permission to speak, sir?" It was Sulu.

"Of course. Go ahead."

"My impression is there's a fair amount of apprehension among those who're still blind. Last night didn't help any, but I think it's going to get worse as the days go by. Imagine listening to your roommate go through it all night long, and then it doesn't hit you for another two or three days. Is there anything we can do to diffuse the anxiety?"

"Suggestions, anybody?"

Uhura began. "The worst thing we can do is sweep it under the rug and try to ignore the problem."

"Any vay ve can make a joke out of the whole thing?"

"Set up an exclusive club, where blindness is required for membership." That was Sulu's idea.

"Ve don't vant an us-them mentality," objected Chekov.

They batted ideas back and forth for several minutes. Young just let them talk. Spock remained silent. Finally Young asked for his opinion.

"I am no expert in crew morale, sir," was Spock's reply.

"As First Officer, I require your opinion." It was quietly stated, but there was underlying steel in his voice.

Spock paused before complying. Chuck got the impression he was surprised, not by the steel, but by Young's willingness to display it. "A contest among blind personnel would serve several functions. It would give blind crewmen a sense of camaraderie; it would allow us to hone our skills further; and it would provide a focus for the inevitable teasing from sighted personnel. I suggest that Mr. Tanzer be asked to set up an entertaining evening, assuming you are all willing to be laughed at."

Scotty interrupted the chorus of affirmatives.

"Beggin' yer pardon, sir, but I c'n think o' at least two problems with what yer plannin'. First of all, given that half your audience has recently been blind themselves, I'm not sure they'll think it's funny. Secondly, you all don't mind being laughed at, but you're not the ones with an anxiety problem either. I'm not sure my guys would think an evening's entertainment at their expense would alleviate any anxiety."

"Sounds like I need to discuss this with Mr. Tanzer. Thank you all for your input. Are there other problems or concerns we need to discuss?"

"Sir," Spock replied, "I have been working on designs for auditory output for each workstation. Although most crewmen will have regained their sight by the time we could install these devices, it seems prudent to prepare for a possible repetition of the need."

"I agree, starting with Bridge workstations. Mr. Scott, I realize your department is already badly overworked, but do what you can to assist Mr. Spock."

"Aye, sir."

"One other thing, Captain. I have studied what little data there is on the phenomenon that caused all this damage. In my opinion, there is insufficient evidence to suppose the event to be an attack by an intelligent hostile entity."

Uhura volunteered, "Starfleet reports no further contact with whatever caused it."

Young summarized, "So for now, we assume it was a natural phenomenon that won't be repeated. Anyone have anything else?" Silence. "All right. Same time tomorrow. Dismissed."

Young went to see Tanzer right after the meeting. He described the problem briefly. Tanzer grasped the situation immediately.

"I have an idea that I think would help a great deal. It would also be great fun! But I'm not sure how fast I can pull it together. Give me an hour and I'll let you know."

Tanzer's department worked feverishly for five hours. Word spread through the ship about the promised show at 2100 hours. Blind personnel who wished to be in the show were urged to sign up with Tanzer. Due to time constraints, only the first 15 volunteers would be used.

Volunteers were told: 1) An ability to ham it up would be an asset; 2) a fear of falling would be a hindrance; and 3) not to wear anything that was not washable. Chuck was on the Bridge when the announcement came through. Much good-natured speculation ensued, but no one opted out of the show. In fact, they urged Chuck to volunteer as well. Remembering Kirk's admonition to be known, Chuck said 'yes', uncertain if he would regret it.

xxxx

The Rec Deck was packed. Chuck was ushered to a seat in the front row. He could feel the excitement in the air. For the moment, anxieties were banished. Tanzer was famous for putting on a good show. But it was not Tanzer whose voice he heard.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I'm Lt. Griggs. My friends call me Dan. Mr. Tanzer gave me this job tonight for two reasons: I can see and he can't; and secondly, he has volunteered himself as one of the contestants. We have a total of 15 participants. We had many more applicants than we have time for this evening, so we are considering a repeat performance tomorrow night. If you're interested, call me before 1200 hours tomorrow.

"Now as I draw this curtain, please be careful not to give anything away to the contestants." Dead silence greeted this instruction. "Mind you, we're here to have a good time, so go ahead and laugh, but don't blurt out any real information. Okay?"

Chuck heard the curtain move aside. The audience gasped, and then began chuckling nervously. Dan continued.

"This will be an elimination contest. The contestants have been divided into groups of three. You will choose a winner from each group. Those five will perform a second time. From that we hope to get a first, second, and third place conclusion, but it is possible that some contestants may be asked to perform a third time.

"Voting will be by audience applause. No particular criteria have been set - whatever you think is the best overall performance. Please hold your applause until I ask for your vote at the end of each group. And contestants, I remind you that roughly half your audience will be judging by sound alone.

"Now listen carefully. I will give these instructions only once. Your performance begins the moment I call your name. You are to leave your seat, make your way to the platform without assistance, climb the ladder you will find there, move to the end of the six-foot-long board attached to the top of the ladder, and fall into the vat below. The vat contains something that will cushion your fall, at least somewhat, but that something is not water. Also, do not dive. The vat is not deep enough for that to be safe. Please exit the vat on the side away from the audience. Wait on the platform for your group to finish. The winner from each group will be seated on the platform to await round two. Any questions?"

"Is there a time limit?"

"This is not intended to be a speed contest, but I suppose we'd better set an outside limit. Three minutes from the time I call your name to the time you exit the vat. If you go over, you're automatically disqualified. If there are no further questions, please remove your boots and socks."

As Chuck stooped to take off his footgear, he wondered if he dared try to pull off what he was thinking. It had been years, and this was completely unrehearsed. He listened carefully as the first name was called. It was Tanzer. He was seated on the far left. Talking as he walked, Tanzer was the picture of confidence. Chuck didn't glean much from what he heard. Only that the vat was on the far side of the stage, and whatever was in it didn't splash. It was more of a squishing sound.

The second contestant was an engineer. He didn't talk at all, but was very methodical in his approach to the vat. Chuck counted ten steps on the ladder. If each was twelve inches from the next, and the vat was three feet deep, then the fall was seven feet. The third contestant was Sulu, who tripped and fell at the edge of the platform. He also screamed as he fell. Chuck guessed that seven feet was pretty accurate, from the sound of Sulu's fall.

Chuck began to plan his own act, and only half-listened to the rest of the proceedings. Sulu won the first set; Spock won the second; Uhura won the third; and then it was Chuck's group. His competition was Chekov and Young, both of whom did well. Taking a deep breath, he plunged in. It would either be a resounding success, or a complete flop.

He pretended someone was dragging him out of his chair and onto the stage. He resisted every step of the way. Once on the stage, he faked a slap in the face, and a kick in the rear, to force him to climb the ladder. Keeping up a stream of verbal complaint, he nonetheless climbed rapidly. At the top, he faked complete terror. Crawling to the end of the board, he pretended someone demanded that he stand up. Almost losing his balance twice, he finally fell all sprawled out, and landed in the vat with just thirty seconds left to exit it. He struggled to the edge and jumped over the side with two seconds to spare.

"I'm impressed," murmured Young, as Chuck stood next to him awaiting the vote. Apparently, the audience was too. Chuck was the clear winner. It was only after he sat down that Chuck's mind registered what had been in the vat: strawberry jello. Oh well, he could think of lots worse things. Meanwhile, he began planning his encore.

When it was his turn, he mimicked each of the other winners for a few seconds each: Tresky's chattering nervousness, Sulu's Tarzan yell accompanied by tripping over his own feet, Uhura's ballerina style, and Spock's automaton. Once at the top, he spent over a minute clowning around. He slipped and slid, even falling off and catching himself by one arm. He finished with a backwards somersault, landing spread-eagled, face-down.

The applause was loud and spontaneous. Chuck took several bows before they would quiet down enough to let Tresky finish it. Sulu won second place and Spock third. They were the only others who had tried somersaults the second round. Griggs wanted a few comments from the winners. Chuck was last.

"So, Chuck, we should give you a gold medal. Where did you learn to do that?"

"I learned to act in grade school. And I was the regional gymnastics champion two years running while in high school."

"How would you say your performance tonight was affected by the lack of sight?"

"Very little. Nothing I did on the board required vision. My biggest concern was running out of time. Also we were hampered by lack of practice. A seven foot drop doesn't leave much room for error."

"Were you at any time aware of a fear of falling?" Griggs asked.

"No, sir. It never occurred to me."

"And when did you become aware of the contents of the vat?"

"Not til after I climbed out of it." Chuck admitted. "I was too busy with other things. There were two safe ways to land, and it didn't matter what was in the vat. The belly flop was far more spectacular than feet first."

"You're certainly right about that. Thank you very much, gentlemen. Let's have another round of applause for our three winners tonight."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The next morning, Chuck was assigned Uhura. When he arrived on the Bridge, they burst into spontaneous applause.

Chuck grinned, slightly embarrassed. "I was glad to help. Does Tanzer think it worked?"

Young replied. "Too soon to tell, but he thinks it helped. They're going to do it again tonight, but none of us are eligible. They want new suckers. And they're changing the contents of the vat."

"Sounds like a show worth seeing."

Chuck joined Uhura at her station. She remained on the Bridge for the duration of their stop at Outpost 72. Then she turned over her station to a subordinate.

"I'm teaching a class for the next hour. Then I have to see half a dozen people in my department. I hope to get a lunch break before the 1300 briefing. The rest of the afternoon is flexible. I have some research I'm working on, and some papers to grade. I usually go to the believers' meeting at 1900. It'll be short because of tonight's show."

So Chuck spent the day with Uhura. She was quietly competent, unfailingly cheerful, and not apparently hampered by the lack of sight. He himself was getting so used to it, he hardly thought about it anymore. Over lunch, Uhura gave him her testimony.

"My story's not very exciting, not compared to the Captain's, or even Spock's. I understand you've heard their story, so all I'll say about that is that it's not what convinced me. You see, operating in the realm of the impossible is nothing new for us; we've been doing it for years. So yes, it was a miracle that we could talk to First's people, but for me anyway, it wasn't a life-changing demonstration of the power of God."

Chuck swallowed a bite of salad, wondering how much prodding she would tolerate. "What about Jim's and Spock's testimony of victory over hate?"

"Yes, it's a powerful testimony, but that's not what convinced me either. I don't know how much you've seen of their relationship, but it's not all that unusual for them to endure hell for each other. Nothing they did on First's ship was out of character. It wasn't until the mission was over that I began to realize what a permanent change had occurred.

"They each shared their experience with the entire crew. Talk about transparency! My goodness, you never saw such openness! At first, I thought they were crazy, that people just wouldn't understand - and they didn't. But it didn't seem to matter. They were happy all the time. The change was especially noticeable in Spock. I remember being profoundly shocked to hear Spock laugh." She played with her fork, remembering the incident.

Smiling warmly, she continued. "It was maybe a week after we'd left First's vessel. Dr. McCoy made an appearance on the Bridge and began needling Spock. It was the old logic vs. emotions argument. Spock just looked at him and started laughing. The Captain started laughing too, and within minutes, the whole Bridge was in hysterics. We didn't even know why we were laughing, but they did. The joy of the Lord is contagious.

"The first baptism, a few weeks later, really impacted me. I began to see how serious they were about this, and how radical a change had been made. There were twelve of them in the water that day. The pool was lined with spectators; it's not every day that the ship's Captain gets baptized. He challenged us to observe the difference in their behavior.

"They started holding meetings on the Rec Deck. Those first meetings were a combination of Bible study and prayer group. I went to most of them and just listened. It was fascinating. They read a passage of Scripture and talked about what it meant. If they disagreed, they would all go research it and talk about it again the next night. They met almost every night, and they drew quite a crowd. Not because of the arguments, but because of what they did next.

"Whatever they decided the passage meant, they would then draw applications to their own lives. That's really where the Captain's 'no secrets' policy got started. He didn't come out and say that's the way it's going to be from now on. He just modeled it so thoroughly - he and Spock both did - that everyone else copied them."

Chuck wiped a bit of sauce off his chin, hoping he didn't have to prompt her with another question. If it was the wrong one, it could be a distraction.

Uhura went on. "One thing that happened the second week really touched me. I don't remember the Scripture passage they started with, but where they went with it was how precious and valuable they were in God's sight. Then they jumped to the need to see good in those around them, and praise the good, rather than correct the bad.

"All of a sudden, the Captain got real quiet. They just waited for him. After a minute, he said the Lord had convicted him about something he needed to make right, and he excused himself, saying he'd be right back. He stood up, looked around the room til he saw me, and came over. Speaking quietly just to me, he looked me in the eye and said he needed to apologize to me. He wanted to do it in front of everybody, but he wouldn't if it would embarrass me.

"I didn't know what he was talking about, but I'm not easily embarrassed, so I said, 'go ahead.' He drew me into the circle, and the first thing he said was that I was one of the most competent people he knew. He spent several minutes telling everyone what a wonderful person I was. Meanwhile I'm standing there wracking my brain for what he could possibly need to apologize to me about.

"Then I had it. Two days previously, he had yelled at me on the Bridge. I hadn't thought much of it at the time, just that he must be having a bad day. I corrected the problem and forgot all about it. By the time he had finished telling everybody, he made it sound like he'd committed this great, terrible sin. I think, in retrospect, that he did see it as a serious sin, but I just thought it was a joke.

"He asked my forgiveness, and I said 'sure'. Then he wanted to know if he could make restitution. He had to explain the word to me, but then I asked if he was serious. He assured me he was. So I told him.

"'Captain,' and I pulled his chair into the middle of the circle, 'I want you to sit in this chair while everyone in this room, who feels so inclined, tells you exactly what they think of you. You listen to each one, but you're not allowed to respond. No protest, no defense, no explanation, not even a thank-you-for-your-input. You say absolutely nothing, but you don't get out of this chair until every last one has had their say. Then you have lunch with me tomorrow and tell me about it.'"

They waited a moment for the laughter at the next table to die down.

"Well, of course, he did it, and it took over three hours. Word spread and people kept coming in to get their turn. Spock and a few others stayed to the end. I wasn't sure the Captain would last. He gripped the arms of the chair, tears streaming down his cheeks, but he listened attentively to each and every one. Spock was last. All he said was, 'Jim, my esteem for you continues to grow. I know how hard this was for you.'

"The captain stood up, looked at me, said nothing, and left. I almost regretted what I had done. But Spock turned to me and said, 'Do not worry. He will be all right. It is a good thing you have done to him. Thank you.'

"We did have lunch the next day. I'm not sure what I expected, maybe for him to make a joke out of the whole thing. But he didn't; he thanked me.

"'Uhura, thank you, I would never have endured such a thing if you hadn't required it. Criticism would have been easy; I was ready for that - expected it. I've certainly made my share of mistakes over the years. But to sit there and listen to testimony after testimony in praise of my character - my courage, my compassion, my whatever - I just wanted to scream. But you had commanded silence, so I bit my tongue, clung to the chair, and cried silently. I wanted to deny that what they said about me was true, because it's not how I see myself.'

"He told me he went back to his cabin and argued with the Lord about it half the night. When he finally ran out of steam, he said the Lord spoke to him. _Jim, I don't see you the way they do. I don't see you the way you see yourself. When I look at you, I see Jesus in you. And it's in His righteousness that you and I can talk. It's not how good and wonderful you look; it's not how bad you think you are; it's in and through Jesus that you are made righteous._

"So he thanked me again because he'd gotten this word from the Lord, because of what I'd forced him to face. And Chuck, he never asked me why I did it; he never said, 'don't you dare do this to me again'; he never pointed out that what I'd made him endure was much worse than what he'd done to me."

They were both finished eating, and lunch break was about over. So they tabled Uhura's testimony until dinner.

Once again seated with their food trays in the officers' mess, Chuck asked his first question. "What was the most significant thing about that incident with Kirk?"

"It's hard to explain. He'd always been a dynamic leader. We'd follow him anywhere. We all knew that he would die for any one of us, and it wasn't just because he was reckless, although he was. He really cared and we knew it. But this was different. This was caring on a much deeper level.

"You know, we all build protective defense mechanisms from early childhood. Well, I don't know if this makes sense, but it was as if, all of a sudden, he didn't have any defenses. Not because they'd been shattered, but because he didn't need them anymore. That, I think, is what finally got through to me, that this was not the same man I thought I knew.

"I wish I could say he led me to the Lord right then and there, but that's not what happened. I was so profoundly shocked, that I retreated into my own protective shell. But I continued to attend their evening meetings, and I continued to watch their behavior. Some two weeks went by. Finally, I went to see Dr. Chapel.

"Christine was one of the twelve at the first baptism. She and I had been pretty close off and on over the years. I felt I could talk to her and get straight answers. Not that the Captain wouldn't have answered my questions. But I didn't feel intimidated by Christine. Anyway, we had several talks that next week, some of them quite lengthy. As a result, I gave my life to the Lord, and was baptized with the second group."

Chuck quizzed Uhura as to what her questions were. They ranged from the simple - 'Who is God really?', and 'Is Jesus a white man?' - to the complex - 'What does it mean to be made righteous, and what difference does it make?' They ran out of time before she could answer all those questions.

The believers' meeting was interesting. Chuck had been to a couple of the large group meetings, but this was his first small group. There were ten people; Uhura was the team leader. They took turns sharing first about praise reports, then prayer requests, often on behalf of others. They spent some ten minutes praying for the mentioned requests.

Then Uhura said they would have to cut short the second part of their meeting, but she felt led to address an issue anyway, even if only briefly. She quoted a couple of Scriptures, then began to talk about the pain of returning sight. After giving a rather graphic description, she asked if anyone was battling fear of it. Three admitted they were. She then laid hands on each of them in turn and prayed for them. Lastly she closed the meeting with a brief prayer for all of them. After the group disbursed, Chuck had a few minutes alone with Uhura.

"Can you tell me why I do not sense in these people the same openness that you and the other senior officers have displayed? Is it because of me?"

"No, I don't think so. It's because they are fairly new in the Lord. Their minds have not yet been sufficiently retrained that their behavior is as changed as ours is. And the rate of change is different with each of us. My job is to love them all right where they're at, and encourage them to let the Lord change them as He chooses."

xxxx

Chuck attended the show later that evening. They were seating blind personnel in front of sighted, so Chuck got a seat in the fourth row. As in the previous night, the most popular were those that talked non-stop, displayed a fear of it, and then showed off with some gymnastics trick.

He followed the action fairly well by sound, especially since he knew by experience what was happening on stage. However, he could not guess the contents of the vat. The sound was a squish, but different from the jello. He tried to capture the smell of it, and he caught a whiff of something several times, but could not identify it. When the show was over with winners chosen, they announced the contents of the vat: cooked spinach. A chorus of disgusting noises ensued, but Chuck just laughed. When the room was quiet, Griggs made a further announcement.

"How many of you have enjoyed these two shows?" Vigorous applause. "How many of you are eager to try this for yourselves?" Nervous chuckles. "That's what I thought. How many of you would like to see the six winners compete again for champion?" Deafening applause. "Should we ask them if they're willing?" Hiss, boo, no-o-oo. "If Spock, Sulu, and Chuck are in the audience, please come to the stage."

As Chuck squeezed past the people seated in his row, he wondered if they were going to hold this playoff contest right then. Spock and Sulu both got there before he did. Griggs lined them up facing the audience. Knowing what it was, the spinach smell was quite obvious this close to the vat. Griggs started talking to them.

"They don't want me to give you the option of backing out. Do you understand what is being demanded of you?"

They each responded in the affirmative.

"Are you afraid?" Six negatives.

Then Spock interrupted. "Sir, if I may make a number of suggestions?"

"Of course. Improvement is always welcome," Griggs smirked.

"If you would put off this contest until tomorrow night, you could change the contents of the vat once more, so that we would all be in ignorance. Secondly, if you moved the contest to the Hangar Deck, you could raise the ladder an unspecified number of steps. Third, if contestants were kept in a separate room, none would have the unfair advantage of hearing others perform. Of course, the risk in putting it off is the possibility that some contestants may regain their sight before tomorrow evening."

"All good suggestions. Audience, I put it to a vote: How many think we should do it now?" A smattering of applause. "Tomorrow?" Resounding applause. "All right. Same time tomorrow night, on the Hangar Deck. Dismissed."

xxxx

Chuck was supposed to spend the next day with Chekov, but Chekov spent the day in bed recovering his sight. His chosen buddy was Sulu, who kept him supplied with medicine. Chuck visited briefly, but only stayed a few minutes, because Chekov was so incoherent. Sulu was showing no signs of discomfort, and was his usual cheerful self.

Uhura was also missing from the Bridge crew that morning. Inquiry discovered she had been up all night with Christine Chapel and was sleeping. Young and Spock were being monitored by Lila and Sam, respectively, so Chuck went in search of Sullivan. He found him on the Rec Deck with Tanzer. He reported Chekov's and Uhura's condition and asked for new orders. Sullivan sent him to McCoy.

"But don't expect too much. He's undoubtedly still overworked."

"Right, sir. May I ask a personal question?"

"Certainly." Sullivan's tone was brisk, but not unfriendly.

Chuck kept it mild and respectful. "We were encouraged to find a buddy for the process of returning sight. I wondered if you had done so."

"No. I don't plan to need one. Why? Are you volunteering?"

"Not really, but if I don't show up for work, I wouldn't mind if you checked on me."

"Sounds like a good arrangement. Neither of us needs a babysitter."

McCoy was indeed busy when Chuck arrived in Sickbay, so he made the rounds of the patients instead. Opinions of McCoy were high, both personally and professionally. And praise of his Sickbay was unanimous. One crewman put it well.

"Nobody wants to be sick or injured. But I'd much rather be in McCoy's Sickbay, than any starbase, or even earth-based hospital, and I've been in a few."

Chuck had started in on the staff when McCoy finally came over.

"Are you pestering my people?" But he said it with a smile.

"Yes, Doctor, I am," Chuck admitted without apology.

"Well, you might as well pester me for a while. Come on into my office."

As they were seated, the intercom whistled.

"Doctor, it's Uhura. She didn't ask for you, but-"

"I'll talk to her. Thanks."

"Uhura, it's McCoy. How are you?" It was not a polite non-question. But she didn't answer it.

"Doctor, I only wanted to know about Christine. I left her at 0630 to get some sleep. It seemed like the worst was over for her."

"It is. She called in an hour ago. I told her to get some sleep." McCoy's medical radar was picking up something. "Uhura, what are you not telling me?"

"It crept up on me while I was asleep. If you put me on the sick list, it'll save me having to call the Bridge."

"Have you got medicine?"

"I gave Christine what I had. She didn't think it would be that bad."

"Famous last words. I'll send you some. Do you want somebody to stay with you? I don't think it'd be wise to wake Christine, but I can find someone else."

"Don't bother. I'll be okay. And no rush on the medicine. I haven't decided whether to take it or not," she admitted reluctantly.

"Uhura, I'm telling you - take the medicine. Your recovery time will be seriously hindered if you don't. You saw what happened to Christine, and she knows better."

"But if I'm giving the pain to Jesus, I shouldn't need medicine."

"Uhura, how much practice have you had doing that?"

"Not a lot, but more than Christine has," she claimed half-defiantly.

McCoy sighed. "Well, I can't stop you from trying, but be sure the Lord is saying to do this, and not your flesh wanting to do what Jim Kirk can do."

She acknowledged the advice with a nod. "Understood, Doctor. Uhura out."

"McCoy to Spock."

_"Yes, Doctor."_

"I just put Uhura on the sick list too. And Spock, she's trying to do this without medicine."

"Understood. I will do what I can, Doctor. Spock out."

Chuck had a question. "Doctor, can you explain the reference to 'flesh'?"

"Sure. It doesn't mean skin, or even the physical body. It's an old English usage that means the natural desires uncontrolled by the Holy Spirit. In this case, it could easily be a pride issue. We all know Jim Kirk wouldn't need pain medicine. Spock wouldn't either, but he's Vulcan, so he doesn't count. But trying to emulate Jim Kirk is a common failing among the crew. Uhura and Christine are by no means the only ones who've tried it."

"Has anyone succeeded?"

"A few. But most eventually give up and take the medicine. It takes a rare breed of stubbornness to do what Jim does."

"Which is?"

"First of all, his body is already conditioned to accept high levels of pain. Secondly, he made up his mind a long time ago that an ability to think was more important than pain avoidance. And he's been in plenty of situations where that decision was critical for survival. Third, he's not afraid to be stretched. Words like 'limit', 'can't', and 'give up' simply don't exist as far as he's concerned."

"Sounds like emulating Jim Kirk is a tall order."

"It is, but that reminds me. You haven't signed out any pain medicine either."

"I've got time yet," Chuck put him off casually.

"Don't wait too long."

xxxx

Midafternoon, Spock went to see Uhura. Finding her cabin unlocked, he entered.

"Uhura, it is Spock. Can you hear me?"

"Come on in, Spock. Forgive me for not getting up."

"Certainly." He sat in the chair by her bed. "I heard of your present difficulty from Dr. McCoy. Is there anything I can do to assist you?"

"You can tell me how the Captain manages to keep this up for hours on end without losing his cool."

Spock knew she didn't refer to Young, but to Kirk.

"By maintaining complete relaxation, which he can do because of total acceptance, and an absence of fear. But he has had much practice. Why do you wish to copy him?"

"I don't know, Spock." Pause. "I miss him, and he hasn't even been gone a week."

"He is all right. I would know if he weren't. Uhura, God has given Jim special giftings, including an ability to handle pain. God has given you other gifts, no less special. In the present situation, there is no need for you to endure this without medicine. You are no less valuable in my sight if you choose to take the medicine."

"Thank you, Spock. That means a lot." She took a deep breath and relaxed. "Okay, I'll take the pills."

Moments after leaving Uhura, Spock heard Kirk's voice in his head.

*Spock, are you there?*

*Yes, Jim.*

*I don't see how it's possible to talk like this at such a distance. Are you as unaware of me as I am of you, unless we're talking?*

*No, I am continually aware of your thoughts. I have not initiated conversation, because I do not wish to distract you.*

*So from your end, this is just like any other meld.*

*Yes, except that it does not require nearly as much energy to maintain this link.*

Jim's anxiety came through clearly. *You know I let you do this against my better judgment.*

*Do you find my presence an intrusion?*

*Spock! I don't care if you're reading my mind all the time. I've nothing to hide from you, and you know it. My concern is what happens to you when I die. Assuming I have any warning at all, if I tell you to go, just do it - no arguments, no questions, no goodbyes.*

*It should not be necessary for you to concern yourself with it, since I will know everything you know. Also, it is possible that this link is different enough that feeling your death will not incapacitate me.*

*Maybe, but I wouldn't hold my breath on it.*

*Jim, I am doing this because the Lord told me to. There is something you will need that I can do for you. I trust it will be obvious when the time comes.*

*I'm sorry, I should have known it was something like that. I'll just have to trust the Lord to take care of you.*

xxxx

Chuck saw Sulu at dinner. He reported that Chekov was over the worst, but wouldn't come to the show that night. Chuck sensed something in Sulu's voice.

"What about you, Sulu? Are you okay with tonight's show?"

"I'll be there," Sulu replied grimly. "Don't you worry."

"It's your eyes, isn't it?" Chuck guessed. "You're starting to get symptoms."

"Don't you dare tell McCoy! I don't want to get disqualified. It isn't as if I could see anything."

"Sulu, the show isn't for another three hours. You'll be in agony by then!"

"I don't care!" he insisted adamantly.

"It's just a game!"

"Promise me you won't tell, Chuck."

"I won't, if you agree to tell Spock. If he thinks it's safe, I won't say anything."

"All right, I'll tell Spock."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chuck arrived at the Hangar Deck about fifteen minutes before show time. He was ushered to a side room reserved for the contestants. Spock and Sulu were already there, as were two of the other winners. It transpired that the third winner of the previous night had already recovered his sight, and so was disqualified.

"Gentlemen," Spock addressed them. "I wish to make you aware of Mr. Sulu's condition. He wishes to compete this evening, in spite of the pain he is experiencing. The process has not reached the point at which he would have use of his eyes.

"You have three options. You could report this, get him disqualified, and thereby increase the chances of your being a winner. Secondly, you could let him compete, assuming that because of his pain, he will not do well. The third option is to allow me to take his pain, so that he can perform well. What do you choose?"

They opted to let Spock do his stuff. The girl from Engineering spoke for all.

"We're not doing this to win. At least, I'm not. I don't care who wins. We're doing this to entertain the troops. Besides, it's fun!"

Griggs walked in just moments after Spock was done.

"Good evening, gentlemen. A few instructions before we start the show: Your order for performance will be determined randomly. I will call your name over this communicator. You then have fifteen minutes to complete your act. You leave this room, find your way to the stage, climb the ladder and fall into the vat. Then you exit the vat, climb the ladder and fall a second time. The clock stops when you exit the vat the second time.

"You can embellish your act any way you want to, with one caveat - no displays of fear. We've had enough of that; do something different. Also, I've been instructed to remind you that with the increased height, it's especially important not to land head first. Any questions?"

"What do we do when we're finished? Come back here?"

"No, there are seats reserved for you on the far side of the vat."

The girl from Engineering was called first, then Spock. The other one, whose name Chuck didn't know, was next. Then it was Sulu's turn. He assured Chuck he was fine, thanks to Spock. Chuck began planning his act. It would depend somewhat on how long it took him to find the stage. Suddenly, he had a marvelous idea, and so very simple. The communicator crackled again and spoke his name.

Chuck entered the Hangar Deck mounted on a pretend white horse. He circled, reared his steed, raised an arm in salute, yelled, "Hi-oh Silver, away!" And charged the audience, whistling 'William Tell's Overture'. The audience cracked up and scattered to get out of his way. Several didn't manage to move their seats fast enough. But Chuck heard the clatter of collapsing chairs and managed to avoid tripping over the obstacles.

By some sixth sense, he made straight for the vat, circled twice on his horse, and reined abruptly at the foot of the ladder. Talking to his horse, he dismounted, pretended the ladder was a trail he had to climb, and started up, pulling his horse after him. Mentally counting steps as he went, he pretended the trail was steep and rugged. Arriving at the top, he praised his horse and remounted.

Then he pretended the horse was spooked by a rattlesnake. Repeatedly rearing, the horse attacked the snake, and on the third rear, Chuck fell off. Timing the fall, he rolled onto his back and landed in the vat. He climbed out onto the edge of the vat, stood up and walked all the way around to the ladder, balancing on his bare feet. Pretending he had fallen down a ravine, he climbed up the wrong side of the ladder, as if it were a cliff.

Reaching the top, he looked for his horse, but found only the dead rattlesnake. Concluding the horse must have fallen into the ravine too, he dived off the board. Executing two perfect somersaults, he landed spread-eagled, face down. Perched on the edge of the vat, he made his final comment before swinging onto the floor.

"If Silver landed in this mud puddle, he must be a chestnut by now! No wonder I can't find him!"

Laughter and spontaneous applause was his reward. Someone handed him a towel, and he began wiping the chocolate pudding off his face.

Chuck again won first place. The girl was second; Sulu was third.

xxxx

The next morning, Sullivan did not appear at the breakfast meeting. By unspoken consent, Chuck took charge. He sent Lila to Scotty in Engineering, and Gliff to Tanzer in Recreation. Sam was still tied up being Spock's eyes, though Spock hoped it wouldn't be too much longer before he had a working tactile readout.

Chuck stopped in to check on Sullivan before heading to the Bridge.

"Come in, shut the door, and don't turn on the light. Who is it?"

"It's Chuck, sir. Is there anything you need?"

"Yeah. It woke me out of a sound sleep about 0200. I took the pills, but I could use some more. I can't recall when I've had a headache like this one. Headache is too mild a word for it." Sullivan groaned and rubbed his forehead in misery.

"Right, sir. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Chuck fetched medicine, and helped Sullivan take it. He couldn't raise his head off the pillow without help. And he was shaking badly, even after taking the pills. Chuck promised to check back in a few hours. Leaving Sullivan, he took the lift to the Bridge. It had been shocking to see Sullivan reduced to helplessness. He took several deep breaths to settle himself.

Uhura, Chekov, and Sulu were all on duty that morning. Chuck listened to the banter as they rejoiced together over restored sight. The banter ceased abruptly when Spock arrived. Chuck heard the gasps as they got their first look at Spock's face. They were sobered by a fresh awareness of the permanence of Spock's loss. He was immediately aware of their reaction.

"There were certain advantages to your blindness. I regret that my appearance distresses you. I would be grateful if you can ignore my disability. Also, I remind you that Captain Young's face probably looks very much like mine. I do not yet know him well enough to predict his reaction to your distress."

They took a collective deep breath and tried to do as Spock requested, but the cheerful banter had evaporated. Nonetheless, when Young arrived a few minutes later, there was no reaction to his appearance that Chuck could hear.

Chuck observed the Bridge crew in general that morning, and had lunch with Chekov. His testimony was similar to Uhura's, though he had been more impacted by the change in Spock than in Kirk.

"As you may know, Spock is naturally a wery reserved person, wery self-contained; he rarely expresses emotion. My first clue that things vere different vas the night he shared vith the entire crew how he felt about attacking the Captain. He had never, I mean _never_, done such a thing before. Then two nights later, he shared how he himself got free of the hate. There vas such a joy on his face as he talked about it.

"I began vatching him closely over the next days. The changes vere subtle. He vas still Spock, but different. Same stamina, but not so driven; same desire for excellence, but more understanding of others; same encyclopedic knowledge, but more interested in relationships. For instance, vhat he said this morning about his face, he vould never have said that before. He vould have simply endured the awkvard moment in silence, hoping ve vould leave him alone. Now, he really cares about us; and he understands. Even more though, he cares about Captain Young, and vas able to spare us all from a repeat performance."

Chekov shared about the baptism and meetings on the Rec Deck. He'd had several lengthy discussions with Tanzer, McCoy, and even Spock. He'd given his life to the Lord just days before the second baptism. He talked about what baptism meant to him, and about his study of the Word. He explained the research of word meanings in the original languages. And he talked about meditating a passage until God showed him how the passage applied to his life.

In the officers' briefing at 1300, Young reintroduced the role-play study of Kirk. Surprisingly, he got willing cooperation from everyone, and no one asked why they were doing this. In fact, it seemed to Chuck that they were actually having a good time. And any awkwardness over Spock's and Young's faces was notably absent.

Chuck had dinner with McCoy. After getting his testimony, McCoy volunteered the fact that Chuck and a dozen engineers were now the only ones left who hadn't recovered their sight. And they'd had such a run on the medicine that afternoon, that they'd run out again. They went together to the praise and worship meeting at 1900. Afterwards, Chuck sought out Spock.

He came right to the point. "Spock, I want you to teach me to do what Jim Kirk does."

"Why?" Spock did not pretend to misunderstand.

"Two reasons: I think it will aid my study of the Christian question. It will help me sort out how much of what I've seen of Kirk is because he's a Christian, and how much is just because of who he is. Secondly, because I want to. I think if he were here, he would honor my request, just as a friend."

"Very well. However, it is a skill; instruction without experience is of little value."

"I have a tailor-made experience coming up. The only question is when."

"Indeed. Call me as soon as you experience any sign of symptoms."

"Thank you, Spock."

xxxx

The next morning Sullivan was back on his feet. Neither of them mentioned the day before. Chuck was assigned to Tanzer that day. After sharing his testimony, Tanzer gave him a thorough run-down on the spread of Christianity aboard the _Enterprise_. Chuck attended several small group believers' meetings that day. Some resembled Uhura's group; others were much more openly sharing. Some prayed together extensively; some spent most of their time sharing testimonies; some studied the Word together.

McCoy and Spock joined Tanzer and Chuck for dinner.

"Chuck, how are the eyes?" McCoy inquired.

"Just fine, sir. No symptoms yet."

"We're down to just four, including you. Better stop by Sickbay tonight for some pills. It can't be long now."

"Yes, sir. But I don't plan to need them." Chuck lifted his chin in determination.

"Not you too! I told you..."

"I know, but I'm going to have expert help."

"Spock!?" McCoy was mildly irritated.

"His reasons are logical, Doctor."

"No doubt!" McCoy retorted, but subsided nonetheless.

xxxx

Sulu was Chuck's assignment the next day. His testimony was slightly different from the others. They had all become Christians within a month or two, as a result of the changes they saw in Kirk and Spock. Not so with Sulu.

"At first, I was oblivious. I think I figured it was a passing thing, and they would all get over it. Besides, I wasn't at all sure I liked the change. Sure, the transparency was incredible, but not very comfortable. The biggest thing I didn't like though, was the Captain's attitude change. It's kind of hard to explain.

"We had several months in there where it seemed like nothing was going on, mission-wise, that is. I was bored. I expected the Captain to be bored too. Before he became a Christian, he definitely would have been. Instead, he didn't seem to care. It was as if his life no longer revolved around the things that mattered. The _Enterprise_ is out here to make a difference in the galaxy. I thought he had abandoned the values we had always stood for.

"Then all of a sudden, things started popping. I mean, we jumped from crisis to crisis, with hardly enough time to draw a deep breath in between. And this went on for months. I began to wish for some of that boring routine. But not the Captain - he was equally unfazed by all the Red Alerts. Mind you, I would expect him to be competent and functional, even if he's exhausted. But there was no sign of exhaustion, and there should have been. I won't go into details, but some of that was pretty hair-raising." Sulu grinned as if daring Chuck to ask for stuff that was undoubtedly classified.

Chuck threw him a mock salute and refused to be baited.

Sulu shrugged and returned to the story without prompting. "Anyway, I began to see that the Captain was every bit as reckless as he'd always been, possibly more so. But he now had something internal that enabled him to cruise right through stuff that would have been stumbling blocks before.

"Then there was everybody else's attitude. Nobody was pushing me, or non-verbally saying 'get with the program', or anything like that. They just continued to love me where I was at. If I wanted to talk about it, they freely answered questions and debated issues. And if I didn't want to talk, that was fine too. They believed God would get through to me, and they weren't anxious about it.

"Well, He did, but I'm not sure I can point to one specific event that made the difference. It seemed more like an accumulation of influence over months. Though there was one mission that was probably a big part of it. It was towards the end of that long run of crises I mentioned. I was personally getting pretty ragged around the fringes, in terms of my energy and ability to cope.

"It was one of those weird phenomena - natural, as far as we know, but no one understands the physics of it except Spock, and even he's not too sure. Anyway, the thing is ripping holes in our universe, and Spock comes up with a way to stop it. He and Scotty put together what amounted to an enormous bomb. The hair-raising part was what we had to do to place that bomb.

"We drifted without engine power right into the middle of that thing, shoved the bomb out the Hangar Bay by hand, and then drifted back out of there. Took almost 48 hours altogether. And that whole time, I'm the only one on the Bridge that had anything to do. Sensors were blind, communications was out, navigation was blind - all instrumentation was useless. I'm flying the ship as if it's a solar-powered glider." He sat back and shook his head, as if even now uncertain how he'd been able to do it.

"They all sat there calm and relaxed, as if they hadn't a concern in the world. And it was even worse on the way out. We'd had to leave a timer on the bomb. If it exploded before we were clear of the phenomenon, we would've been history. They knew it all hinged on whether I could feel and find the currents that would take us out of there. But they weren't worried.

"And it's not because they knew I could do it. No one knew if it could be done. Only Spock, Scotty, and the Captain really understood how impossible a job it was. Scotty was busy with the bomb; Spock was constantly running calculations in his head, trying to guess our position based on my reports. But the Captain just sat there watching me, with an encouraging smile on his face.

"Now, I've worked with these guys long enough to know the difference between an appearance of calm control, and a genuine lack of concern. It bugged me so much, I asked the Captain about it a few weeks later. His answer really startled me.

"'You're right, Sulu,' he said. 'I was unconcerned, but probably not for the reason you're thinking. You know I'm not afraid of dying, but I _was_ worried about you. That was a lot of stress, and I knew you were exhausted. But the Lord wouldn't let me worry about you. He was very blunt about it: _Do you, or do you not, trust Sulu to do the job?_ When he put it that way, I had to admit that I did. If you couldn't do it, no one could. So He told me to stop worrying, that He would take care of you.'

"What startled me so much was the idea that God would take care of me, even if I didn't believe in Him. Or at least, the Captain believed He would. And I'd have to admit, there was something in the way of supernatural grace at work in that situation. I was too exhausted to be aware of it at the time, but the fact is, I did accomplish the impossible." He spread his arms wide, unwilling to take any credit for the miracle.

"Anyway, after that, I started attending their meetings, at least some of them. Again, I'm not sure I can pinpoint one meeting that made the difference. But I remember one teaching that stood out as helpful in my growing understanding. It was about righteousness. Basically, it's the idea that when we become Christians, we're given a new identity, that of being righteous before God. We can't earn it; all we can do is believe it.

"One night about three months ago, Chekov came to my cabin. We were both working Alpha shift, so it was middle-of-the-night for both of us. I had been unable to sleep, 'cause I was so tied in knots over this Christian question. But he didn't know that, so he was pretty apologetic that the Lord had insisted he come talk to me. He was relieved when I confirmed that I was troubled. So we talked the night away, and I gave my life to the Lord about 0500. There was quite a party on the Bridge that morning, 'cause I had been the last one of the seven of us."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

At 2137 that night, Chuck called Spock. They agreed to meet at Chuck's quarters.

Spock stepped into his cabin and waited for the door to close behind him. "Please describe your symptoms."

"Mostly itching. Some tearing. I didn't even realize it was starting til Sulu mentioned that I was rubbing my eyes. I called you right away."

"Chuck, there are several things of which you need to be aware. First, I will not think less of you if you cannot do this, or if you choose not to. I have brought medicine with me, and you may decide at any time to take the pills. You do not have to endure the agony.

"Secondly, regardless of what you choose, you may expect to be non-functional for at least eight hours, possibly as long as 24. What I teach you will not shorten the time, and could in fact lengthen your recovery time. It is not magic, nor is it easy. It will exhaust you mentally, physically, and emotionally.

"Third, I can tell you what Jim does. I can walk through it with you. But I do not know if you can _do_ what Jim does, and I cannot do it for you, except by mind-meld, which I presume is not what you are after in this experience. I suspect your ability or lack of it will depend in large part on how badly you _want_ to do this."

Spock put his hands behind his back and cocked his head. "Do you have questions?"

"No, I think I've got the picture, and I want this pretty badly. So you will please not say anything more about pills or mindmelds. And Spock, regardless of how bad it gets, thank you for doing this for me."

"You are welcome. Please lie down on the bunk."

Spock worked with Chuck for about fifteen minutes to get his body completely relaxed. Then for about a half-hour, they discussed mental and emotional attitudes. Chuck readily understood the concept of acceptance, but wasn't sure he could force his body to refuse to fight the pain. He didn't think fear was a very big issue, but as Spock probed the depths of his responses, Chuck realized his instinctive fight reaction was indeed fear-based. He was afraid of falling apart.

"Chuck, have you ever fallen apart before?"

"Yes, and it was disgustingly awful. I acted like a two-year-old."

"I too have behaved as an undisciplined child," Spock admitted. "What is there about the experience that you fear?"

"You, Spock? I find that hard to picture." He didn't quite call him a liar.

"Nevertheless, it happened. The experience was not pleasant, but neither was it fear-provoking."

"I guess I'm afraid of losing my self-respect. Though after what happened the last time, it's a wonder I have any left. Probably because of Jim. He wouldn't let me despise myself. He's incredible: never falls apart himself, but thinks it perfectly acceptable for me to do so."

Spock sounded puzzled. "Why do you say he never falls apart? You witnessed one of the more spectacular occasions."

"That's different. You said demons were controlling him."

"Did he excuse his behavior with that defense?"

"No, he didn't. In fact, as I recall, he fell apart on purpose, knowing it would be awful. So, he's not afraid of falling apart. Was he, before he became a Christian?"

"Yes, but not because he was self-concerned. It has been many years since he worried about his image in the eyes of others. In our battle with hate last year, he was afraid of losing control, because he thought that if he did, he would kill me. Also, I have not seen any level of physical pain that had the power to make him fall apart."

As they talked, Chuck unconsciously reached a hand up to rub his eyes. Spock heard it and stopped him with an iron grip on his wrist. Chuck took a deep breath and returned his hand to the bunk where it had been. He tried to relax.

"You've been waiting for me to do that."

"I expected it, yes. Total acceptance makes no provision for secondary comfort issues. You will not touch the eyes until we are finished. You will lie here, completely relaxed and largely motionless. You may talk to me; you may even scream at me; but you will not touch the eyes. Now, are you relaxed?"

"No."

They again worked at relaxation. It took almost half an hour, but they got there finally. Chuck then returned to the subject of Kirk.

"How does he do this? That night you stayed to watch him battle the pain, you said he just lay there accepting it for hours. It takes me half an hour just to relax, and this is nothing yet, compared to that."

"He doesn't battle the pain. As long as you continue to think of the pain as an enemy to be conquered, you will lose. Do not fear it. Do not fear what it will do to you."

Chuck didn't respond to that, so Spock changed the subject. "Before we go on, I want to address another issue: Are you doing this, in part, because you feel guilty for causing Jim's pain that night?"

Chuck pondered the question for a long moment. "To be honest, I probably am. I know what he said about it, but I still feel guilty."

"Do you understand the concept of forgiveness?"

"Yes, but Jim said there's nothing to forgive. He said he was glad I did what I did. He actually _thanked_ me for causing him all that pain!" The continued distress was clearly evident in his voice.

Spock prayed for wisdom and went where the Lord directed. "Chuck, I want you to imagine that Jim is here in this room. Tell him how you feel and ask his forgiveness."

Chuck took a deep breath and tried to picture Jim's face. The image that came to him was the bruised and bloody mess with his fingers planted in it. Close on the heels of that image was the look of fierce joy in his eyes at the moment of his healing. And that joy had not been because the pain was gone, but because Chuck had said 'yes'. Then he remembered the face with that metal band covering his eyes and ears. And with it came the feeling of helpless isolation when he had faced the same circumstances.

"Jim," Chuck's voice was full of emotion. "I hardly know what to say. I don't understand you, but I want to. How you could take all that pain and helplessness and isolation, and say 'thank you', is beyond my comprehension. I know what you think, but I still feel guilty. I wish there were some way I could pay you back for what I did to you."

"Chuck, do you believe that I know Jim well enough that I could speak the words he would say to you, if he were here?"

"Yes." No hesitation.

"These, then, are his words to you: Chuck, I have told you that I harbor nothing against you for what you did to me. But you still feel that what you did was not right. I'm not going to argue with you, so let's just assume for the moment that your view of reality is correct. Chuck, with all my heart, I forgive you for all the pain and helplessness you caused me. Can you accept that forgiveness and be free of any bondage related to this incident?"

"Yes."

Chuck wasn't sure if his tears were emotionally or physically based, and didn't really care. Spock was right, that was exactly what Jim would have said. He could remember him saying the same thing to Eric. He remembered wondering how one could forgive where there had been no wrong. Nonetheless, he now felt washed clean, freed from a weight he hadn't even known he was carrying. How could forgiveness have such power when Jim wasn't even here? He voiced the question. Spock tried to explain.

"It is because you believe that Jim forgives you that you are able to experience the power of that forgiveness. Your belief is not dependent on his physical presence, because you were able to hear his words as spoken through me."

Spock paused, but Chuck's silence indicated a lack of further questions. "Tell me, do you still wish to pursue our present activity?"

"Yes, definitely. Though I must admit, I haven't thought about the eyes since we started talking about forgiveness."

"It is a commonly used tactic in pain management - think about something else. Are you relaxed?"

"I doubt it."

"Check and see; then fix it; you know what to do."

To his surprise, it took Chuck only about five minutes to return to complete relaxation.

"You are acquiring some skill. Also since you haven't been focusing on it, there was less tension to remove. But now I need you to describe your symptoms. As you do so, focus your mental energy on accepting each one."

"The tears are trickling into my ears. Both my eyes and ears are itching furiously. As I focus on it, it becomes a real challenge to leave my hands where they are."

"Take three deep breaths, relax your muscles, and accept the itching. You will do nothing to stop it. The itching will continue indefinitely. You accept it as part of your life in the present moment. It requires no more of your attention.

"Do you have other symptoms?"

They went through a similar process with each one: the stinging eyes, throbbing head, and irregular stabbing pain in one or both eyes.

"Since the focus of your pain is the eyes, the focal point for your relaxation must also be the eyes. You should be able to relax the rest of your body with one or two deep breaths. You will need additional effort to relax your face and eyes. I regret that I must ask you to tell me when your facial muscles are completely relaxed."

"Spock, how can you stand to do this for me when you have no eyes?"

"That is an imprecise question. Other than the need for verbal feedback from you, there is nothing about this activity that is hindered by my lack of eyes."

"But-" Chuck sputtered.

"You are asking an emotional question."

"Yes."

"I dealt emotionally with the reality of my loss within hours of the injury. You were there when I forced Jim to face it as well."

"I remember he thanked you."

"He was acknowledging the emotional cost to me of what I had done to him. Condensing weeks of grief into minutes of trauma, I relived with him what I had done to myself just hours previously. All of which is to say that I have thoroughly accepted my condition and it is not an emotional problem.

"So, are your facial muscles relaxed?"

"I'm working on it." Pause. "Yes. At least for the moment."

"Are your eyes open or closed?"

"Closed."

"What happens when you open them?"

"Stabbing pain gets markedly worse. Relaxing is impossible."

"Are the lights in this cabin on or off?"

"I have no idea."

"In the absence of instructions to the contrary, the computer would detect our presence and set the lights at a medium intensity. You may wish to turn the lights down or even completely off."

Chuck started to do so when he had a contrary thought. "What would Jim do?"

"Jim's goal in this situation would not be what yours is. Acceptance of the pain would not be an issue for him. His goal would be to be functional in the shortest time possible. If Dr. McCoy had said it would take eight hours, he would try to do it in four. And the level of pain to be endured in order to accomplish his goal would be irrelevant in his thinking."

"So what would he do?"

"As soon as he realized that his eyes were responding to light, he would drive himself relentlessly until the eyes would do his bidding. Undoubtedly, Dr. McCoy would have an opinion regarding how well the eyes would respond to such treatment."

"Call and ask him, please."

Spock sighed, stood, and walked unerringly to the desk, activating the intercom by touch.

"Spock to Dr. McCoy."

"McCoy here. How's Chuck?"

"He is doing well. However, we have a question. If Jim were in these circumstances, what cautions would you give him?"

McCoy sighed. "Spock, I hope you know what you're doing. Eyes are one thing. The psyche's another."

"Yes, Doctor. Nevertheless, please answer the question."

"The eyes are very sensitive - very fragile in comparison with most other body parts. They don't tolerate much abuse. So, five minutes every hour max, provided he rests them completely the other 55 minutes. And I'm not kidding. More than that and you risk permanent damage."

"Thank you, Doctor. Spock out."

"So, would he take the doctor's advice?"

"If we were in a crisis situation in which survival depended on regaining the use of his eyes, he would risk the permanent damage without hesitation. Apart from such a crisis, he would heed the doctor's advice. In medical matters, Dr. McCoy is usually correct in his assessments. And he doesn't play games; his opinions are straight truth, as he sees it."

"All right, five minutes it is. What exactly would Jim do?"

"First, he would determine to keep his eyes open for those five minutes, no matter what. Then he would start with a completely dark room. He would increase the level of light as fast as he could tolerate. At the conclusion of the five minutes, he would plan his strategy for the next session, but the bulk of the waiting period would be spent thinking about something else. Possibly, he would sleep."

"And how would he handle the pain?"

"He wouldn't think about it. He would hardly notice any pain-related behavior, nor would he care. He has nothing to prove when it comes to pain management, either to himself or others. At the end of the five minutes, he would take a moment to relax, because the more complete his rest, the more he can endure in the next session, and the faster progress he would make."

"One last question: how is any of this affected by the fact that he is a Christian?"

"It is not. He learned to manage pain many years ago. The iron will with which he drives himself has been part of his personality from childhood. His Christian faith could affect the situation in two ways. First, he would ask the Lord how he should deal with it. If the Lord said to take the pills and sleep through the whole thing, Jim would do it without hesitation. Secondly, if there was someone who needed to see a demonstration of the power of God, Jim would use the situation to ask for the miraculous, and would fully expect God to do what he asked."

"I've seen a couple of those miracles. Well, I'm not Jim Kirk, and I'm not asking for miracles, but I _am_ going to do this."

He programmed the computer to increase the light one level for each minute, starting with one minute of full dark. By the time five minutes were up, Chuck was screaming in agony, with fists clenched and back arched. But he had kept the eyes open and the hands on the bed. And that was all that mattered.

Spock seemed unconcerned about Chuck's lack of control. He didn't even mention it. Instead, he quietly talked about his relationship with Jim Kirk. Sharing story after story, he talked all night long. Every hour, he paused for five minutes, while Chuck tested the limits of his endurance. Then the stories continued as if uninterrupted.

Chuck listened avidly to the stories, for this was a topic he had wanted more data on. And he was able to more-or-less ignore his own misery. But he found that he dreaded those five minute sessions. The agony got no easier to take, and he continued to display out-of-control responses, which Spock continued to ignore.

In spite of his dread, he would not give up. And he _did_ manage to keep the eyes open. It would undoubtedly be easier if he could avoid fearing it. But he was determined to see this through. After the fifth session, he suddenly realized the agony was getting no worse. No better either, but not worse. Each session went to his limit, because they'd set it up that way.

So, at his limit, he screamed, arched his back, and clenched his fists. Did it matter? Not really. What mattered was keeping the eyes open. But he began to wonder if he could manage to avoid screaming. From that moment, he no longer dreaded the sessions. He stopped screaming, tensing his muscles, even gasping for breath. Furthermore, he made much faster progress.

Three hours later, Chuck's control was so good that Spock talked all the way through that five minute session. The next session, the computer announced that light was at maximum intensity. No further level adjustments were possible. When the computer turned the lights off again at the end of five minutes, Chuck realized he had actually been _seeing_. He did an internal symptom check, and realized the headache was entirely gone. So was the itching and stinging. He couldn't remember if there had been any stabbing pains or not. He hadn't been paying that much attention to it.

"Excuse me, Spock." He interrupted the latest story. "Computer, turn the lights back on."

_"At what level?"_

"Maximum intensity."

No pain.

"Spock, we're done. I can see, and there's no pain."

"That is good news indeed. What is your level of exhaustion?"

"At the moment, I feel fine, but I'm probably running on adrenaline. Maybe not though. The last four or five hours, I haven't been doing anything much."

They debriefed for half an hour, after which Chuck decided he was fit for duty. "I may need a nap later, but I've felt lots worse than this after pulling an all-nighter."

Dr. McCoy admitted that he passed the physical. He was tempted to give him a psych test too, but opted to quiz Spock instead, since Chuck wasn't exactly a crewman. Chuck gave him a knowing smile as he left. McCoy decided Chuck must read minds; then he remembered what Jim had said about Chuck's earlier career. So giving Chuck a psych test would be a waste of time. He knew how they were scored. Maybe he could get something out of Spock, who waited in his office.

"You wished to see me, Doctor?"

"Is Chuck really as okay as he looks? Nobody but you or Jim Kirk would come out of a night like that, looking as good as he does. Am I looking at a miracle? What happened?"

"I do not believe it was miraculous. He wished to do what Jim would have done. I believe he succeeded. Some of the details were different, but the end result is much the same. He discovered that pain can be not only tolerated, but ignored. He learned that agony even at the limit of his endurance is not a thing to be feared. Having learned these things experientially, he now understands Jim Kirk in a way he could not before. He is very pleased."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Boredom was one of the biggest problems on the outpost. At Don's suggestion, Kirk instituted an evening activity labeled 'Kirk Answers All.'

"I don't want to bore you with my life history, but I'll answer any questions you have. Nothing is too private or personal about my life. There are limits on what I can say about others due to confidentiality. And of course, certain things are classified for security reasons. Other than that, the field's wide open. What would you like to know?"

Kirk spent several hours each evening from then on telling stories. Some questions were funny. Others he managed to make the reply humorous. Some topics were very serious. In all of it, his goals were complete transparency, entertainment, and humor, preferably at his expense.

The fifth night, Don's eyesight returned. Kirk sat up with him all night, providing comfort, encouragement, and coaching through the hours of agony. The next evening, Don had the first question.

"Jim, some of the things you said to me last night showed an intimate acquaintance with pain. I want to know how you acquired that knowledge, but first, I have a confession to make."

The room got very quiet.

"You've been very open with us, but it's been all talk. I wanted to see it in action. Would you really give up an entire night's sleep just because I was hurting? Dr. McCoy gave me some pills to take, but I didn't take them. I was afraid I'd fall asleep. Besides, I didn't think I could fake the agony well enough to fool you.

"It was my intention to take the pills as soon as you gave up and went to bed. When I finally realized you weren't going to quit, I'd already gotten a taste of what you were talking about. So I decided to give it a try. If it got really awful, I could always give in and take the pills. And it did get awful, but I was never tempted to take the pills. I learned more about pain management in one night than I've ever known before. I'll never go back to taking pills."

Kirk smiled. "I too have a confession. I knew you had the pills, but if you weren't going to mention them, neither was I. And I know exactly when you decided to try. All of a sudden, you weren't fighting me any more. You were actually doing what I said, and it worked."

Kirk went on to talk about pain management in general, illustrating his points with events in his own life. Leon wanted to know what was the most painful experience in his life.

"That's virtually impossible to determine, because I don't retain in active memory what the pain felt like."

And he shared his recent experience with Spock's pain as an example of his inability to quantify pain.

"I will say this though. My worst experiences are not with physical pain at all, but with emotional pain. But that's a rather lengthy discussion, which it's too late to start on tonight."

During the next several evening sessions, Kirk shared his most emotionally painful memories. Processing emotional pain was much more difficult to describe, but he managed to convey that he was no more afraid of emotional pain than he was of physical pain. And he did not consider it a sign of weakness to display one's feelings.

xxxx

About a week later, Chuck requested Spock's assistance in conversing with Twenty-nine. He still thought it impossible, but he had promised Jim he would try. He broached the subject after dinner one evening.

"Spock, Jim suggested I ask you to help me talk to Twenty-nine."

"Conversation between his species and yours is extremely difficult."

Chuck wasn't feeling very patient with Spock's habitual understatement. "I would have said it was impossible, except I saw Jim do it. He said you could help me."

"Twenty-nine's people communicate telepathically, but it is highly painful due to the electrical receptors they utilize."

"I know. I tried it."

"Last year the Lord provided us with several days of pain-free contact. Everyone agreed it was a miracle. Without that miracle, the only way to sustain contact with Twenty-nine is to give the pain to Jesus. And that, in itself, is another kind of miracle. Do you wish me to pray for such a miracle for you?"

"No, I don't think so. I got the impression that Jim thought you could teach me to do this. He said nothing about a miracle."

"I am certainly willing to try to teach you. I can place no reliance on any estimate as to the success of such a venture, however."

"Neither can I, but I promised Jim I would try."

So they went to Twenty-nine's quarters. Upon hearing their plans, Twenty-nine was eager to cooperate. Chuck's first problem was the nausea. Spock's answer to that was simple.

"Close your eyes."

That helped a great deal. Twenty-nine wrapped his arms around Chuck, as First had done to Kirk on their initial contact. With Spock's encouragement, Chuck was able to handle that with relaxation.

"Chuck, can you still hear me?"

"Yes."

"Twenty-nine will now establish brief contact. Do not try to communicate with him. Concentrate on maintaining relaxation, the same way you did last week."

Twenty-nine touched his head for a moment only. Chuck gasped. This was much more intense than the eyes had been. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed.

"Do it again, please."

No sense of fear; rather a curiosity over the results of an experiment.

After several attempts, Chuck could maintain relaxation through brief contact. Then they began to lengthen the period of contact. After thirty minutes, they had increased the contact period to three and a half minutes. However, during all of this time, Twenty-nine had said nothing to Chuck. Finally Chuck expressed his frustration.

"Spock, why doesn't Twenty-nine talk to me? Three minutes isn't very long, but it's long enough to say _something_."

"He does not wish to disturb your concentration."

"Well, I want him to. The purpose of this is to talk, not find out how long I can stand the agony. So this time, let's talk, and never mind the clock. Don't stop unless I start screaming, okay?"

"Very well."

*Hi. My name's Chuck. You're Twenty-nine. So, tell me about yourself.*

What followed was not words, but a kaleidoscope of images, overwhelming yet fascinating. It all went by much too fast to process, almost too fast to register. Chuck was completely unaware of the pain, but suddenly darkness overtook him.

Twenty-nine began unwrapping Chuck, with alarm.

"Spock, I'm sorry. I think I may have damaged him."

"What happened?"

"He is unconscious."

"You have forgotten what pain does to his species?"

Twenty-nine finished unwrapping Chuck and laid him out on the floor. He hovered while Spock examined him.

"I am not a medical expert, but his heart and breathing rates seem normal. He will probably regain consciousness shortly."

"But you don't understand. I may have damaged his mind."

"How?"

"It's hard to explain. He requested that I tell him about myself. His request triggered an automatic download. It overwhelmed him."

"Show me."

Spock placed one of Twenty-nine's tentacles on his head. Twenty-nine replayed the download, stopping at the point that Chuck had passed out.

*Now play it again, this time letting me into Chuck's mind, so I am seeing and feeling what he did.*

Twenty-nine complied without protest. Afterwards Spock pondered for a moment.

*I do not believe his mind is damaged. If he does not regain consciousness within a few minutes, I will meld with him. If necessary, I will inform Dr. McCoy, who will undoubtedly be furious that we did not confer with him before attempting this.*

As Spock withdrew from Twenty-nine, Chuck stirred.

"Do not open your eyes. Please describe your symptoms."

"I'm not sure. Headache, I guess. Dizzy, sort-of. Not nauseated though. Feels like I'm floating - very relaxed. What happened? Did I pass out? Where's Twenty-nine?"

"Yes, you did. Twenty-nine is here, and worried about you."

"What for? I'm fine. Can we do it again? That seemed like more than three and a half minutes."

"It was 7.28 minutes. Why do you wish to do it again?"

"Because - because there's so much data. If I see it again, maybe I can sort some of it out."

"What is your assessment of the reason for your loss of consciousness?"

"I don't know. Does it matter?"

"It would be medically prudent to have an answer to that question before repeating the experience."

"Medically prudent? You want me to sign a waiver of liability? Come on, Spock; I don't feel that bad. Why are you dragging your feet?"

Twenty-nine interrupted. "It's my fault. It was an accident."

"Your request that Twenty-nine tell you about himself triggered an automatic download of data. He feared your mind was damaged. So, did you lose consciousness because your body could tolerate no more pain, or because your mind was overloaded?"

"I have no idea. I don't remember being aware of the pain at all. But I wouldn't have said the mind was overloaded either. Sure, it was overwhelming and I couldn't process it. But that's no reason for my mind to check out. You're the expert on minds, Spock; you tell me."

"From the available data, I would guess that you passed out from the pain. But I cannot be certain."

"If we did it again, you'd have more data. If you were me, you would do it again. Please, Spock."

"Very well, provided Twenty-nine is willing."

"I am."

So they did it again. This time Chuck needed no coaching from Spock. He was completely relaxed from start to finish.

*So, talk to me. What am I not supposed to say?*

*It was the way you worded the request for data. I am sorry it overwhelmed you.*

*I'm not. I'm tempted to do it again. Maybe next time. So Jim never stumbled onto this. I'm one up on him then. How did you and Jim meet?*

So Twenty-nine shared his experience of gaining freedom from fear with Jim's help. Chuck saw it, lived it, through Twenty-nine's eyes. But he condensed what had taken three hours into just over five minutes.

*That was incredible! Does Jim know about this way to communicate?*

*Oh, yes. He learned to do it too.*

*I noticed you left out what he shared with you.*

*Confidentiality rules prohibit my sharing that. But I will say I found it incredible. He and Spock both are.*

*I agree. If I could get Spock's permission, would you play me that tape of Jim's? Without condensing it? It's for some research I'm doing.*

*Are you a historian like Sixty-five?*

*No, the research concerns the Christian question aboard the Enterprise.*

*Ah, a worthy cause, but how could Spock give permission on Jim's behalf?*

*I don't know if he would, but if he did, would you consider it sufficient?*

*If Spock assured me that Jim-*

Chuck passed out again, having lasted 7.63 minutes. He regained consciousness again within a few minutes.

"Sorry, Twenty-nine. I lost you in the middle of a sentence."

"If he assured me that Jim would consider it so, then yes, I would."

"Good; I'll ask him then, but probably not today. I'm pressing the limits as it is."

Spock politely refrained from asking what they were talking about. They agreed that the loss of consciousness was due to the pain. Chuck had been aware of it this time, but reported no sense of increasing intolerance. He simply reached his limit and blacked out. But the headache was markedly worse, so Chuck agreed that was probably enough for one day.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Chuck raised the subject again the next day.

"Spock, about Twenty-nine, is there any reason I shouldn't go talk to him myself whenever I have time?"

"I do not know the medical effects of prolonged sessions of contact. If you expect to do this repeatedly, consultation with Dr. McCoy would be prudent."

"I may do that. Two other questions: what he did the first time - that automatic download - is it really dangerous to my mind?"

"I do not think so, not in seven-minute segments anyway."

"Good. The other question is complicated. Twenty-nine showed me his first meeting with Jim. But he left out a part of that conversation in which Jim showed him his memory of the hours immediately prior to his becoming a Christian. Twenty-nine would not show me those memories because of confidentiality. However, he agreed that if I obtained your permission, he would, provided you gave assurance that Jim would consider such permission sufficient."

"Do you understand what you are asking for?" Spock inquired mildly.

"I believe so. Jim is gone, probably beyond the reach of any harm my reports could do." He swallowed. "You, however, are not. I understand if you don't want to give me access to those memories. There are limits to Jim's 'no secrets' policy."

Spock shook his head. "You misunderstand me. There are no limits on the 'no secrets' policy, not for Jim, and not for me. He would not refuse you access to those memories, nor shall I. My question concerns your knowledge of what those memories contain. You are asking to live those hours as he lived them, to feel what he felt. The level of emotional trauma was severe. Why do you wish to subject yourself to this unique form of agony?"

"Because it's part of who Jim Kirk is."

"Very well. I will speak with Twenty-nine."

It was two days later before Chuck found a block of free time to pursue his conversation with Twenty-nine. They discussed the problems involved in what Chuck was asking for. Jim's memory tape ran a little over fifteen minutes uncondensed. Chuck wished he could do it uninterrupted, but got Twenty-nine to promise to restart the tape just as soon as he regained consciousness.

Spock was right: It was awful. But Chuck considered it worth every minute. The emotional agony was beyond description. But Chuck had expected that. The principal thing he learned, though he doubted he could express this in words either, was the depth and strength of Jim's commitment to Spock.

xxxx

Spock had lunch with Dr. McCoy the following day. To McCoy's practiced eye, Spock seemed preoccupied. Formerly, he would have had to needle Spock into divulging anything of a personal nature. Now, he came right out and asked.

"Spock, is something troubling you?"

"The Klingons are overdue at Outpost 67."

"Be thankful for small favors. Maybe they won't show up at all. And anyway, how do you know? Uhura promised me she'd let me know if we heard anything from Jim."

"There have been no official communications from 67." He paused. "Doctor, if you have finished your meal, perhaps we could adjourn to your office for a more private conversation."

Silence reigned until they were seated in McCoy's office.

"Doctor, you recall the conversation in Jim's quarters the night we battled the demons? I told you of a type of mind link with Jim which was spontaneously generated. Such a link was established between us the day Jim departed the ship. I have kept that link open for the past two and a half weeks. I have told you this, because I do not know what effect Jim's death would have on me. I have told no one else, because this link is not something I could repeat at will."

McCoy had long ago given up being surprised at Jim and Spock's embracing strange phenomenon, but he couldn't help imagining the shared agony. "Spock, why are you torturing yourself like this? And didn't Jim say he didn't want you to do this?"

"This link is different from the kind he refused. There is no available data on the effects of traumatic severing of this link. Jim has allowed me to remain. He says he doesn't care that I am constantly reading his thoughts. I am able to compartmentalize it, so it is not 'torturing me' as you suggest. But I am doing this because the Lord wants me on hand to do something for Jim when the Klingons arrive. I do not yet know what exactly I am to do."

xxxx

In due course Kirk shared his conversion to Christianity and how that had changed his perspective on many things. Things moved from there to a discussion of miracles. It had been Kirk's intention to speak to each one individually about becoming a Christian, but Burt surprised him at the next evening session.

"This talk of miracles is all well and good, but what speaks loudest to me is what I see in your day-to-day life. You've been demoted from starship captain with a crew of over 400 to head of this outpost with a crew of four. But I don't see any bitterness, contempt, or superiority. Instead, you've been unfailingly cheerful, genuinely concerned about us as people, and more than ready to do your share plus some. I want to know what makes you the way you are, and how do I get what you have?"

So Kirk led him to the Lord right then and there, in front of everybody. As he shed years of bitterness, the change in Burt was immediate and obvious, both in his face and voice. As a result, the other three also wanted to become Christians. That evening's session went on late into the night, but nobody wanted to sleep anyway.

The next several evenings Kirk shared about the basics of a walk with the Lord, and building Christian community. Not knowing if each session would be the last, he tried to say only that which was most important.

xxxx

After two weeks of role-playing Kirk, Young abruptly changed tactics.

"Tomorrow's briefing will be held on the free-fall court. Anyone who doesn't like zero-g, see Dr. McCoy for anti-nausea pills before the meeting. Dismissed."

As the meeting broke up, Sulu couldn't resist needling Spock. Sulu loved zero-g, and he knew Spock didn't.

"Hey, Spock, are you gonna take the pills this time?"

"No, Mr. Sulu. The pills are of limited usefulness to my metabolism. I shall take the precaution of fasting until after the briefing. Do not concern yourself; I will be functional."

The next afternoon, they gathered in the free fall court. Chuck heard mild speculation. Mostly this group exhibited a ready-for-anything attitude, and that cheerfully. Sullivan, who was there too, couldn't understand it. Chuck didn't either, but he accepted it, whereas Sullivan resented it.

When all were gathered, Young turned off the gravity, and announced they would hold a tournament. For the next thirty minutes, they played one on one. Sulu was the champion. He and Chekov played regularly. Everyone else was a novice. Spock learned quickly, of course. Uhura did fairly well. Scotty was used to zero-g, and thinking spatially came naturally. McCoy and Young, however, couldn't seem to do it at all. Chuck and Sullivan weren't asked to play.

Then Young paired them up for a tournament of two on two, asking Chuck to play, so he could have four teams of two. They played three ten-minute games, and Scotty and Chuck were the winning team. Young had teamed himself with Sulu, McCoy with Spock, and Uhura with Chekov, in an obvious attempt to match good with bad players. Chuck had been a wild card, and turned out to be a pretty good player.

The next half hour, Young announced would be a free-for-all: everyone playing at once - the blind against the sighted. This announcement was greeted with dead silence. Then Chekov asked about Chuck.

"Chuck and Sullivan are both on your team."

Spock recognized immediately that he could not hope to win. Any self-respecting Vulcan would concede the game at the outset. But Spock had been much influenced by Jim Kirk, who didn't believe in giving up. So he spoke briefly to Young, who was nearby.

"Sir, if you would play defense, I shall endeavor to score a point or two."

"Certainly, Spock. Any words of wisdom?" Young tried to emulate Kirk's crooked grin, hoping amusement came through in his voice.

Spock ignored the nuance, even if he heard it. "Plant yourself in front of the goal. The ball cannot travel through your body."

Meanwhile the opposing team was getting organized. By unspoken consent, Scotty was captain.

"Let's have Sulu, Chekov, and Chuck on offense. The rest of us play defense. Sulu, plan your tactics while I organize the defense."

Sulu drew Chekov and Chuck to one side.

"Now, here's what I think we should do."

Chuck interrupted, "Remember, Spock can hear every word you say."

"I know. That's why we've got to have a plan that works, even if he knows exactly what we're doing."

Spock was mildly surprised to discover that they actually considered him a threat to their chances of winning. Then he overheard Sullivan telling the defense that they should make as much noise as possible, so as to hinder Spock's ability to hear where the ball was. Uhura protested that this wasn't fair, but she was overruled. Meanwhile Sulu and company were arranging hand signals for communication.

The game began with several swift attacks by Sulu's group. Young managed to ward off the first two, but the third got through and the first point was scored. Within ten minutes, Scotty's team had racked up five points. Spock had not yet scored. During the next ten minutes, Young redoubled his efforts, and Scotty's team only gained another two points. Spock still had not scored. In the last ten minutes, Spock managed to gain control of the ball, divert attention away from Young, and score three points.

With the game over, Young called for debriefing. He wanted to know how they felt about playing a game so obviously weighted toward the advantage of one side over the other, especially against one of their own.

"What we were doing didn't seem fair to you and Spock," was Uhura's thought.

"Life's no' fair!" retorted Scotty.

"Spock can take it," was Chekov's opinion.

Sulu added, "If we had let down our guard for one second, Spock would have taken full advantage of our carelessness. We won, yes, but we wouldn't have if we'd been nice about it."

"If the game had gone on any longer," put in McCoy, "you might even have won. You saw what he did those last few minutes!"

"Actually, no, I didn't, but I gather it was pretty impressive. So the collective opinion is that even blind, Spock can take on the lot of you, and win if you gave him half a chance? Spock, any comments?"

"Their assessment of my ability is rather overstated."

"Ye're jest modest."

"Ve haf seen you and Keptin Kirk pull wictory from defeat too many times, Spock. You cannot fool us."

"And what would Kirk have done in this situation?" Young wanted to know.

"The unexpected."

"Something aggressive."

"He would have changed the rules."

"Probably turn out the lights."

"Spock?" Young asked.

"I presume you mean that he would be participating as a blind player. Do you mean him to replace one of us, or would he be a third player?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. With a third player, turning out the lights becomes a viable option. Without it, the opposing team would simply turn them back on and post a guard. If he replaced me, he would probably have played a more aggressive game, taking control of the ball sooner. If he had replaced you, the opposing team might have had some significant competition."

"And what about you, Spock? Don't you think the game was unfair?" he probed.

"Sir? I fail to see what bearing fairness has on the matter. Doubtless you had reasons for arranging the parameters of the game as you did."

"Indeed I did. This session's adjourned. Same time and place tomorrow. Dismissed. Spock, if you would remain, please, I'd like a word in private."

The room emptied except for Young, Spock, and Chuck. Chuck did not even tell them he was there, though he was sure Spock knew it. Impossible to tell whether Young did or not.

"Spock, I deliberately set you up. Yet you display no anger. Do you hide it behind a Vulcan mask of calm?"

"Why should I be angry about a game?" Spock was genuinely puzzled.

"They ganged up on you. I wanted them to. I wanted to know if they would, and I wanted to know what you would do."

"Are you satisfied with the results of your experiment?"

"Yes, so far. You said earlier that if you and Kirk had been playing together, you might have won. Why?"

"Several advantages would be at work: Captain Kirk plays recklessly and doesn't believe in giving up. We work well as a team without the need to discuss strategy. Lastly, the opposing team believes that we would win."

"Spock, I would like you to teach me to fight the way Kirk does, so that the two of us could win against Sulu and Chekov."

"Is that in the way of an order, sir?" A note of reluctance came through clearly.

"No. I gather you don't want to. Why not?"

"There are several elements. Skill in unarmed combat, facility in zero-g, and an extensive repertoire of tactics and strategy are all important. But the key is to think like he does, and that is not easily taught. However, I have a prior question, if I may."

"Of course."

"Why are you studying and trying to imitate Captain Kirk?"

"He told me you knew. I'm trying to take his place not only as Captain of the _Enterprise_, but socially and relationally among you senior officers."

"May I speak freely, sir?"

"Yes, please do." Getting Spock to speak his personal opinion was rare. Young held himself still and focused.

"I do not believe you can achieve your goal by trying to imitate Jim Kirk. No matter how well you imitate him, you cannot _be_ Jim Kirk. No one expects you to, or wants you to. The relationships among the senior officers of this vessel are characterized first by honesty. If you would replace Jim Kirk, you must do it as Joshua Young, not as an imitation."

"You don't sound as if you object to my goal."

"Captain Kirk didn't either," Spock reminded him.

"I don't understand either of you."

"Jim Kirk is my best friend. One of the things we have an understanding about is the importance of the safety of this vessel and her crew. We support your goal because it is best for the _Enterprise_. Nothing we do here will bring him back. Conversely, it is not necessary for me to deny my friendship with Jim in order to be a friend to you."

"So, how do I go about establishing myself as Josh Young, friend of Spock?"

"Do you play chess?"

xxxx

With Spock's encouragement, Young began to spend time with each of them. They all found him friendly, easy to talk to, charming. A real enigma, considering his service record. McCoy was holding forth in the officers' mess over a late dinner, trying to get an opinion out of Spock. Suddenly Spock's still form became rigid.

"What is it, Spock? What's wrong?"

"Klingons, at Outpost 67."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

When Kirk had been at the outpost almost a month, Leon spotted the approach of a Klingon ship, and woke Kirk out of a sound sleep. He was dressed in 30 seconds flat, and checking the readings in two minutes.

*Spock, it's time.*

*_Enterprise_ is 2.9 days away.*

*Understood.*

"Leon, wake Burt and DJ. Have Burt check the lifepods. I need DJ to man communications."

"Yes, sir."

"Don, make sure those defense shields stay up. If the Klingons open fire, hit the distress beacon and take to the lifepods. _Enterprise_ is three days away, so you should be picked up before you run out of oxygen. If they don't fire on you, stay put. Do not talk to them. And above all, do not fire on them for any reason. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir. Jim, do you have to go?"

"Yes, Don, I do. I'm going to handle this without bloodshed if I can. I'm counting on you, Don. Remember those you're responsible for."

"I'll never forget you, Jim. Thanks for everything!"

DJ rushed in, a little rumpled but ready for action.

"DJ, send to _Enterprise:_ Klingon battleship sighted. Request immediate assistance. Then get me an open channel to the Klingons."

"Yes, sir." After a pause, "Done, sir. Channel open, audio only."

Kirk straightened his back anyway, and switched to Klingonese.

"What took you so long?"

_"With whom am I speaking?"_

"This is Kirk. And you are?"

_"Commander Konti. Four weeks ago, you asked if I wished to start a war. Now however, you seem to have misplaced your precious starship."_

Konti was not a name Kirk recognized, which was both good and bad. This Klingon might not have a personal grudge against him. However, neither was he one of the few reasonable Klingons Kirk knew.

"Look. We both know what you're here for. Let's make this easy. You can have me under one condition: You leave this outpost and her crew strictly alone. Opening fire on this outpost would constitute an act of war, and there would be immediate reprisal from the Federation. However, under the circumstances, I suspect the kidnapping of this officer might well be overlooked. Do you agree to my condition?"

_"You are said to be a man of many tricks."_

"There's no trick to this. Is your transporter working?"

_"You'll have to let down your shields to let us use the transporter. Not to mention our shields. You expect me to trust you?"_

"Here's what I have in mind. I leave here in a lifepod designed to penetrate our shields. You pick up the lifepod in a tractor beam, draw it inside your defense perimeter, and beam me aboard. Leave the lifepod though, because it will have a self-destruct timer running. If you warp out of here as soon as you have me, it shouldn't pose any problem. Does the plan have flaws?"

_"You seem to have thought of everything. What's to keep me from firing on you and your lifepod?"_

"Absolutely nothing. I'm assuming you'd rather have the physical proof than just a report of my death, with no body to prove it."

_"An astute point. Very well, I agree to your condition. When may we expect you?"_

"Within minutes. The self-destruct will be set to detonate five minutes after launch. Is that sufficient time for your people to complete the transfer?"

_"Depends on how fast you're going. Lifepods tend to be fragile when encountering the force of a tractor beam."_

"We'll make it ten minutes then."

_"Much more reasonable."_

"See you soon. Kirk out."

DJ broke the connection, turned and stared at Kirk.

"I understand enough Klingon to know what you just agreed to. You can't be serious! Klingons can't be trusted! Surely you know that!"

"Calm down, DJ. I know exactly what I'm doing. Listen to me, all of you. My survival is not in question here. Only the means and timing of death. I have been expecting this day ever since I got here. It has been my pleasure and privilege to know you these past weeks. There is one thing I need from you. Whether he blows me up or takes me captive, you will do nothing to retaliate. Is that understood?"

He fixed each of them with a steely glare, and got wordless nods in response.

"Good. Don, you're in charge. Leon, Burt, help me with this lifepod."

xxxx

Without another word, Spock rose and made his way quickly to the Bridge, with McCoy following. The call from 67 came in just after they arrived. Sulu had the conn.

"As you were, Mr. Sulu. I am merely checking my station for the night."

"Commander!" It was the lieutenant manning communications. "A message coming through from Outpost 67! Audio only."

"On speakers," barked Sulu.

"-battlecruiser. Repeat, we have sighted a Klingon battlecruiser. Request immediate assistance. Please acknowledge."

The voice was young and laced with nervous excitement. Sulu wished the voice had been Kirk's. He sighed.

"Send acknowledgment. Spock, how long will it take us to get there?"

"At Warp Six, just under three days."

"Make it Warp Eight."

"Mr. Sulu, even at Warp Eight, whatever is about to happen at 67 will have happened by the time we could get there. And Mr. Scott would object to what that speed for two days would do to his engines."

"All right," Sulu turned to the communications officer. "Lieutenant, tell them it'll be three days before the cavalry arrives. Helm, set course for 67, Warp Six."

Spock prepared to leave. "I shall be in my quarters."

"Understood, Spock. I'll inform Captain Young of the situation. And I'll let you know if we hear anything."

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu."

Spock refrained from telling Sulu that he would undoubtedly know long before Sulu did what Jim's situation was. McCoy trailed him off the Bridge, for once, silent and pensive. At Spock's door however, he was not about to leave Spock alone.

"Spock, you have no idea what's going to happen. I should drag you to Sickbay, but at the very least, I'm not leaving you alone. And that's final!"

"Perhaps Jim will not be killed."

"You don't believe that!"

Spock did not reply, but made no further protest at McCoy's presence.

xxxx

Konti stared at the image of the outpost on his screen. He did not believe Kirk would hand himself over on a silver platter. There had to be a trick. But his orders were clear: Kirk alive, without starting a war. So he would go along with Kirk's stated plan, and watch for the trap. The lifepod came into view and he began barking orders.

xxxx

Don, Burt, and the others were also watching the lifepod. Silence reigned at the outpost. Don wondered how soon the Klingons would open fire, on Kirk and then on them. Burt marveled that Kirk had remained cheerful right up to the end. Leon's only thought was how much the lifepod resembled a coffin. DJ wondered what one thought about in the last moments before death.

Kirk was arguing options with Spock. *It'd be safest for you to leave now. There's an even chance he'll just blow me up.*

*You don't think he will, because it's not what you would do.*

*What do I know about the Klingon mind? Maybe he's not a risk-taker.*

*But we are. I'll stay. Besides I haven't yet done for you that which the Lord wanted me here to do.*

*They've got an expert running the tractor beam. That was very smooth. And it looks like they're going to take me aboard. Spock, there's one thing that worries me about this. I can handle whatever they throw at me in the pain department. But I don't have any defense against drugs, or their latest version of the mindsifter.*

*I believe that is what the Lord would have me help you with.*

*I'm listening.*

*Mental surgery should be possible even at this great distance. However, I am by no means certain, and there would be no second chance. Once I withdraw, I cannot reestablish the link. Moreover it is delicate surgery and cannot be rushed.*

*You mean without causing damage. Spock, we don't have time for delicacy. They've got just two minutes left on the timer. I'm close enough to see the rivet heads. Transport will be any second. So wipe the whole thing if you have to, but do it now!*

But Spock didn't.

Kirk felt transport begin. Usually the transition took less time than a breath. This seemed to take much longer. Kirk had experienced transporter malfunctions before, but he suspected they were doing this on purpose. Kirk was amused rather than frightened.

Kirk materialized on the transporter pad of the Klingon battleship with six disruptors aimed at his chest.

"Such a charming welcome!"

"Don't move! And don't talk!" barked the Klingon who appeared to be in charge.

As Kirk stood there, he felt a slight shudder as the lifepod detonated. Shortly thereafter, the unmistakable sound and feel of warp drive.

_Thank you, Lord!_ Kirk thought. _They didn't fire on the outpost. At least we're not going to start a war today._

Shortly thereafter, Konti appeared in the transporter room. Kirk drew himself erect, looked directly into Konti's eyes, and spoke in Klingon.

"I claim the right to be Commander Konti's own personal prisoner."

Konti looked startled, but no more so than Kirk was, for he hadn't intended to say any such thing, and wasn't sure what it implied.

*Spock?*

*I don't know. Perhaps the Lord put the words in your mouth.*

Konti took a step closer.

"You appear to be fluent in our language, but do you really understand what you have just said?"

"If you tell me, then we'll both know."

"Once spoken, the words are irrevocable. However, under the circumstances, I will give you one opportunity to change your mind. Listen carefully. You are giving up any rights you might have as a Federation prisoner. There would be no possibility of exchange, no trial, no formal execution. You would not be treated with the honor that is your due as a formidable foe.

"Instead you would become my personal property, to do with as I please. One who becomes a slave in this fashion is considered the lowest of the low. He is despised for choosing the life of a slave over an honorable death. Your life would not necessarily be any longer, and quite likely no less unpleasant. You are said to be an honorable man of great courage. I cannot imagine why you would choose to be my slave."

"What advantage or disadvantage would there be for you personally?"

"I will do my duty as a Klingon officer." Konti narrowed his eyes piercingly.

"Of course. But that's not what I asked you."

"They cannot require me to kill you, nor can they object if I choose to do so."

That wasn't what Kirk wanted to know either. He decided on a more direct approach.

"Will the possession of me as a slave enhance your position or personal honor, and if so, would that more than outweigh the difficulties associated with owning an enemy of the State?"

Konti just stared at him for a moment. "You care what this would mean for me personally?! Why?"

"I hope to have opportunity in the coming days to explain. For now, it is sufficient that I do care."

"It is true there are many who would be jealous and angry, but I have sufficient means to protect my property. And you have guessed correctly. One who owns Captain Kirk would have significant political prestige, at least for a time."

"Thank you. I appreciate your honesty and generosity. Nevertheless, I will let the words stand. I choose to be your slave."

There was an undercurrent of anger and disgust throughout the room, but Konti was merely puzzled. He was quite certain Kirk's decision had nothing whatever to do with preserving his own life. But he could see no way in which Kirk could turn the situation to his advantage, or that of the Federation. So, what was Kirk's trap, and more importantly, had he just fallen into it?

"Very well, so be it."

Kirk saw Konti turn to his aide and request something from his quarters, but he didn't quite catch what it was.

"You are no longer entitled to wear the Federation uniform. Take it off, slowly and carefully. Boots and undergarments, everything. Place your apparel on the transporter pad to your left."

Kirk calmly followed instructions, noting that he could not shed Federation thinking as easily as clothes.

*Spock?*

*I need several hours during which you do not have to function.*

*We may have only minutes. What if we're headed from here straight to the mindsifter?*

*If so, I will take it all before they can get it, I promise you.*

*Thank you.*

"Now take three steps forward. Stop right there."

Konti turned to the transporter technician.

"Wide angle dispersion. Energize."

And Kirk's uniform was no more. But Kirk wasn't given time to regret it. Konti's next command was addressed to the medic on his right.

"Scan him, and don't miss anything."

The Klingon doctor snorted, and with McCoy-like disregard for the disruptors, approached Kirk.

"Hands on your head. Spread your feet."

The doctor performed a thorough scan and pronounced him clean.

"No transmitters or other mechanical devices of any kind. Nothing there that shouldn't be."

At this point, the aide returned with an oblong case. Konti opened it and stared at the contents pensively for a moment. Then he flipped a switch, turned a dial, and extricated a metal rod about fifteen inches long with something attached to one end. Konti turned to face Kirk with the rod in his hand.

"Come here."

Kirk started walking with his hands still on his head.

"That's close enough. Kneel. Feet flat. Ankles together; knees spread. Farther. Put your hands on your ankles; fingers towards each other. Now sit on your hands."

Kirk was impressed. It was a position from which he could not possibly defend himself, much less launch an attack.

"You will assume this position whenever I give the command to kneel. The procedure I am about to perform will be repeated weekly for the first month, monthly the first year, quarterly the first five years, and yearly thereafter. It is designed to produce a wound that will never heal, that will be a constant reminder to you that you belong to me. The specific shape of the wound also identifies to others that you are mine. It is therefore essential that you not move during the procedure. Children are rendered unconscious for the duration. Prisoners such as yourself are simply held."

The aide moved to a position behind Kirk.

"Restraint is unnecessary," Kirk stated flatly.

"If you attempt this without restraint and do not succeed, then the brand is doubled, not just once, but every time thereafter. If you succeed, I will add a small scar with my knife. Also you must attempt it each time until you fail. With each success, you get a new knife wound also. So be very sure you want to do this - the price is high."

"An ingenious system: wearing the level of courage and endurance for all to read. I choose the top - no restraints."

As Konti approached with the branding iron, Kirk gazed into his eyes. Konti was startled and disturbed by what he saw there. He expected a stoic, unreadable stare. Instead Kirk's eyes held a strange brightness, openly unconcerned about the proceedings. Konti hesitated, but saw no look of triumph in Kirk's eyes. Rather, as he hesitated, Kirk gave him a look of compassion and encouragement. This made Konti angry, to which Kirk responded with tolerant amusement.

Konti shook himself mentally and concentrated on the task at hand. As the brand touched his forehead, Kirk's only response was to begin blinking his eyes more rapidly as the tear ducts kicked in. As he held the brand in place and smelled the burned flesh, Konti was again drawn to Kirk's eyes. He did not understand what he saw there, but it both attracted and repelled him. Spellbound, he held the brand in place twice as long as necessary. Kirk never wavered. Finally the aide shifted his feet and Konti snapped out of it.

Returning the branding iron to its case, Konti drew his knife and returned to Kirk. Examining the brand carefully, he could find no flaw. Kirk had not so much as twitched.

"You have earned this."

Konti carefully made a small cut at the top of the brand, turning the knife in the wound so that it would heal with a visible scar. Konti stepped back, cleaned and sheathed his knife, avoiding Kirk's eyes.

"We will do this again in seven days. Meanwhile your task is to tell all you know about Starfleet and the Federation. Since you will understandably be reluctant to do so, I am assigning my aide, Subcenturion Khlat, and the good Doctor Koh, to assist you in the task. You will survive it. Their orders are clear. You may wish you hadn't. On the other hand, if you decide to be reasonable, it need not be nearly as unpleasant. Good day, 'Captain' Kirk, and welcome aboard."

Konti gave Kirk a departing look of mockery.

Khlat shoved Kirk onto his face and installed heavy wrist and ankle manacles. Then he hauled Kirk to his feet, and Dr. Koh approached with a familiar-looking device.

"This apparatus effectively prohibits all visual and auditory sensory input."

_Translation: blind and deaf_, thought Kirk. _Is this guy a cross between Spock and McCoy?_

Spock laughed. *An interesting combination.*

"It does more than that, however. It delivers a pain stimulus of random frequency, duration, intensity, type, and location. Its purpose is to reduce your resistance to other measures. You will wear this device at all times for the indefinite future. Should you decide to talk, simply begin talking. Everything you say will be recorded. The device contains a speaker in case we want to ask specific questions. Oh, and do not try to remove it. You can't."

Khlat spoke up behind him.

"Likewise, you will wear this collar. It cannot be removed."

He cinched a leather strap tightly around Kirk's neck as he talked. When he finished securing it, there was enough slack so that Kirk could breathe, just barely.

"Its first purpose is to attach a leash. However, I prefer to drive you, rather than pull you along behind me. So, the whip on your right shoulder means turn right; left shoulder, turn left. To stop, I pull on the leash. The whip applied anywhere on the backside means go. Got all that?"

"Yes."

"I think we better practice."

He marched Kirk all over the transporter room with liberal application of the whip, once aiming him straight at a disruptor, just to see if he would go. Kirk would, and did. All the way up to having the end of the disruptor buried in his belly. Fortunately, Khlat had not picked a nervous or trigger-happy crewman. Dr. Koh cleared his throat, and Khlat returned Kirk to his original location.

"My methods are more sophisticated, but they do not satisfy the bloodlust. So you may play with Khlat for a while. After a few days acquaintance with my little toy here, you should be sufficiently pliable to benefit from the application of other techniques."

"Charming."

"Where did you learn idiomatic tlhingan Hol?" The mild tone indicated mere curiosity.

But Kirk assumed it was also a probe for information. "From an expert."

Koh put the device on Kirk's head, shutting out sight and sound. Kirk was grateful this wasn't a brand-new experience. He felt Koh step away. Khlat applied the whip and they left the transporter room.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Spock and McCoy sat in silence for about a half hour, during which Spock's attention was obviously elsewhere. Finally Spock sighed and looked at McCoy. At that moment, the intercom buzzed.

"Spock here."

"Sulu. 67 just called back. The Klingons have taken Captain Kirk captive and departed. The outpost was not fired on."

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu. No doubt Captain Young will wish to continue course for 67. Please keep me informed." He paused. "And Mr. Sulu, it may comfort you to know that Captain Kirk is alive. I would know if he were not."

"Yes, thank you, Spock. Sulu out."

McCoy could contain himself no longer. "He's alive? But Spock, for how long? How long will it take him to die, and what's it going to do to you?!"

"I don't know, Doctor. The situation is not presently dangerous."

"If being a Klingon prisoner isn't dangerous, I don't know what you think is!"

"They do not intend to kill him at once. Currently, they are making sport of him."

McCoy put his face in his hands. "I don't think I want the gory details. Spock, how can you stand it?" McCoy stood up and began to pace. "Jim is being tortured to death, and we sit here doing nothing!"

"Jim is not dying. The present level of pain is hardly above mere annoyance. You will recall he said the Lord had a specific purpose in sending him to the Klingons. Where the Lord's will prevails, grace abounds. Emotionally, Jim is fine. Stop fretting."

"So I'm supposed to just leave you alone, assuming everything is 'fine'?!"

Spock sighed. "You cannot follow me around for days on end, nor can I spend the time tied to a diagnostic bed. I do not want what Jim and I are doing to become common knowledge aboard this vessel. The only reason I told you is so that if I suddenly lapse into a coma, you would know why. I will keep you informed at regular intervals. Meanwhile please pretend that everything is normal."

"Normal?!" McCoy shook his head. "I don't know what normal is any more. But I understand why you want this kept quiet, so I'll try."

"Thank you, Doctor."

xxxx

Khlat drove Kirk all over the ship. He could tell when they had an audience, because Khlat doubled or tripled the use of the whip. When they began a second tour of the ship, Kirk realized Khlat's purpose was two-fold: entertaining the crew, and wearing him down to exhaustion. He hoped he wasn't losing enough blood for that to be a major factor, but he could feel it trickling down his legs. Several hours later, Kirk wondered if Khlat would outlast him. Also, he was getting bored. He had the ship's layout memorized.

Finally Khlat stopped him at a major corridor intersection and proceeded to attach the leash to something overhead. He cinched it tight enough that the only way Kirk could get a decent breath was to stand on his toes. Then Khlat left. Kirk discovered, however, that he had left the whip behind. Every few minutes someone would come along and hit him with it. Kirk was surprised at their restraint.

What he didn't know about was the double guard that Khlat had posted. They were to ensure not only that Kirk did not escape, but that each crewman only hit him once each time they passed.

*Well, Spock, this isn't exactly the privacy you requested, but it may be the best we're going to get.*

*I agree. However, privacy is not the point. What I plan to do will render you unconscious for several hours. In your present circumstances, I do not think you would survive such a period of time.*

*Then we better come up with Plan B, because I don't think we're going to get the conditions you require.*

*I am beginning to reach the same conclusion.*

*Why do you need several hours?*

Kirk did not question Spock's prediction that he would be unconscious.

*To extract all Starfleet memories without destroying thirty years of personal history is difficult and time-consuming.*

*How long would it take you to destroy all my memories?*

*Jim, I do not think you understand. Normally, amnesia is created by blocking access to memories. The memories are still intact, and given certain conditions, the block is removed and access restored. The mind as a whole remains undamaged throughout this process. However, that is not what I am advocating doing to you. Merely blocking your memories is no defense against the mindsifter, and possibly not even certain drugs.

*To be effective, the memories must be permanently removed. If I take all your memories, not only will you not know who you are, you will not remember how to eat, or walk, or talk. The effect would be very similar to what the mind-sifter would do to you. If they resort to that, I will beat them to it, but only if I am very sure of their intentions. To answer your question, the task could be done in less than three minutes. If you are conscious and actively supporting me, it might be done in half the time.*

*I thought you said I would be unconscious.*

*As a result, you will be. But you can fight the loss of consciousness longer than any other human I know. And as long as you retain consciousness, you can refuse to fight what I am doing to you. On the other hand, if you are unconscious before I begin, then you cannot assist me.*

*Okay, I understand what we do about the mindsifter. But what about drugs? Is there any middle ground between what takes hours, and what takes only a couple of minutes? Could you take everything since I joined Starfleet, but leave all the early stuff? That way, I could function as an adult for what life is left to me.*

*Perhaps. That might be accomplished in something less than five minutes, so we could attempt it even in the present circumstances. However, there are certain problems with what you suggest. The physical agony associated with this surgery will last only a brief period of time. But the mental agony will probably not dissipate. I know you think your remaining life will be short, but you may be faced with years of living in mental anguish. The lost memories will remain an unfillable aching void for the rest of your life.

*A second and possibly more serious problem is that if I take all your recent memories, you will no longer remember your relationship with the Lord. If I understood you correctly, The Lord has put you in this place for His purpose. I wonder whether you can accomplish that purpose if you have forgotten who He is.*

*That is indeed a serious problem. And you can't just leave this past year's memories intact. There's a lot in there we don't want the Klingons to know. But maybe - it should be safe enough to leave everything since I came aboard this ship.*

*Yes, I could do that. Then you would know what had occurred since your arrival.*

*Not only that, but I would remember this conversation. I'd know what had happened to me and why. I'd know what I was doing here in the first place. But even better, if we spend the rest of the night discussing Jesus, I'd have all I need to accomplish the Lord's purpose here. We just have to discuss it in terms that don't give any clues about Starfleet.*

And that's what they did. It was a long night. Kirk spent altogether over twelve hours standing in that corridor. He was able to ignore the random pains from the head device, as well as the occasional whiplash. Residual pain from the previous wounds of the day didn't even rate any conscious awareness. The only external thing that required any of his attention was the breathing. He had established a pattern of ten breaths on his toes followed by ten breaths with relaxed leg muscles. This allowed him to avoid cramped legs while maintaining sufficient oxygen to the brain to stay alert. But sleep was out of the question, so he and Spock talked the night through.

Kirk knew when morning had arrived because traffic in the corridor was substantial due to morning shift change.

*Spock, it's time. Khlat may show up any minute. I don't think we should risk waiting until later. I may become too exhausted to be of any assistance. And there's nothing to be gained by waiting. I have enjoyed this last night of fellowship - an unexpected treat. And since I won't be able to thank you afterwards, let me say now how much I appreciate everything you have done for me. Words are inadequate, but I am grateful.*

*I too am glad for these last hours together. I will always remember you, Jim.*

Spock began the surgery without further words.

xxxx

McCoy made note of the fact that Spock did not appear for breakfast or lunch. Uhura told him that Spock had appeared on the Bridge only briefly that morning, requesting time to do personal research in his quarters. McCoy wasn't sure what Spock viewed as regular intervals, but if he thought once a day would be satisfactory, he was mistaken. So, after lunch, he went to Spock's quarters.

"Come in, Doctor. I shall be finished shortly. Please wait."

McCoy sat, and Spock lapsed into silence, again his attention obviously elsewhere. Some ten minutes went by. Spock's face took on a look of anguish that McCoy had not seen since the hate attack on First's vessel. Whatever was going on, Spock was not bothering to shield from McCoy. He waited in tense silence for Spock to explain. Finally Spock sighed, composed his face, and turned to McCoy.

"It is done. The link is broken."

"Is Jim dead, then?!" He could barely choke out the words.

"No, he is very much still alive. Even without the link, I will know when he dies. The Lord gave us this link, so that I could do for Jim what he needed. The task is accomplished; the link broken."

"Spock, the look on your face reminded me of the time when you attacked him on First's ship."

"This is possibly worse than what I did to him then."

"Worse?! Spock, talk to me. Don't try to carry this alone. Jim wouldn't want you to." Ordinarily Spock wouldn't shut him out, but this was far from normal.

"I have taken thirty years of his memories, leaving him with an aching void that will not heal. He believes his remaining life will be short, and the benefit worth the cost."

"And the benefit is?" McCoy tried to think rationally.

"The Klingons cannot take from his mind what is not there. He now has no memory of anything that occurred between the day he entered the Academy, and the moment he boarded the Klingon vessel. They will get no Starfleet secrets from Jim."

"The Lord wanted you to wipe his memory?!" Anger bubbled forth.

"I would have preferred a more selective surgery. But that would have required more time than was presently available. Jim did not want to risk waiting for an opportunity to present itself."

"So Jim told you to wipe his memory? Now they'll torture him to death, and he doesn't even know why?! What a way to die!" McCoy stared unseeing at the wall.

"Doctor, my concern is not for his death. He retains the knowledge of what has happened to him and why. My concern is for the hours, days, weeks, and months of life, which he must live with an aching mental wound that will not heal. Death is easy in comparison."

"Jim never did choose what was easy. Spock, it's not your fault. You mustn't blame yourself."

Spock squared his already straight shoulders. "I did the deed. I am responsible. I do not understand why your species feels it is better to blame someone else than to take responsibility for one's own actions."

"And what does the Lord think of your actions?" McCoy asked intently.

"The Lord understands Jim. I have learned to leave the care of Jim Kirk in His capable hands."


	9. Chapter 9

Author's note: Throughout the rest of this story, Kirk encounters torture on various levels. His response is not intended to be very realistic. Nor do I intend to mock or belittle anyone who has endured the real thing. Survivors of POW situations deserve our honor, consideration, and gratitude.

Chapter 9

Konti approached the corridor where Kirk was shortly before 0700 that morning. He declined the offered whip and just stood watching for a few minutes. Several crewmen took their turn with the whip, and Konti could see no sign of any reaction in Kirk. Then he noticed the feet. They had been flat on the floor. Now they were up on his toes. Two minutes later, he put them down again. Konti inquired of the guard.

"He's been doing that all night without a break. It's so he can breathe, sir."

As Konti turned back to watching Kirk, something seemed different. Kirk's posture was slightly more rigid. Suddenly he collapsed. Konti's first instinct was to rush to his aid. His second instinct was to be wary of a trap. Filing away the first for future study, he chose to act on the second.

He sent for Dr. Koh, and continued to watch Kirk. When he began turning blue from lack of oxygen, Konti ordered him cut down.

Koh and Khlat arrived simultaneously.

"Scan him. Is he really unconscious, and if so, why?"

Konti stared at Khlat in accusatory silence.

"Yes, sir, he is. No, wait- he's coming out of it now."

He paused, and Kirk coughed twice, then lay still.

"Insufficient data to determine cause, but vital signs are all normal now, sir."

"Could that head device you've got on him have caused this?"

"Absolutely not, sir. The stimulus is not strong enough to cause loss of consciousness."

"What about Khlat's methods?"

"No, sir. I have checked him three times in the last twelve hours, and my professional opinion is that nothing Khlat has done so far could have caused this. No, this is something else entirely, but without a complete exam, I cannot determine what. Of course, you could ask him."

Konti stared at what he could see of Kirk's face. He imagined he saw the ghost of a smile on Kirk's mouth. Only for a moment, then his face was passive. Konti decided not to risk Kirk's refusal to talk in front of so many crewmen. Ordering everyone back to work, he left Kirk in Khlat's hands for another day.

Kirk's first thought was how good it felt to be lying down. His second: was Spock successful? He gingerly touched the raw wound only long enough to determine that everything was gone between his arrival on this ship and his first day at the Academy. His third: who was Spock? It hurt even to ask himself the question. So many such questions would now have no answer. Spock was a friend; Spock had taken his memory; Spock was gone now. That would have to do for an answer. For now, he would try to live in the present, and not ask questions.

The present intruded itself upon him in the form of three whiplashes across his legs. Supposing that meant, 'get up,' Kirk awkwardly got to his feet.

Khlat was not pleased that he could manage it, and drove him relentlessly for four hours. Then he tied Kirk's leash overhead, as he had done before. This time however, Kirk could tell he was in the mess hall, because he could smell the food. He had had nothing to eat or drink since he arrived, and doubted they would give him anything now.

They didn't. Instead, the whip was passed around and applied constantly for two hours. Kirk guessed the party was abandoned only because the crew was sent back to work. Khlat untied him, and drove him to what Kirk guessed was the gym. It was a large room at any rate, and the smells were more like the gym than the hangar deck.

Kirk didn't know it, but Khlat had advertised this session, and the walls were lined with off-duty crewmen there to watch the fun. Koh and Konti were there as well.

Kirk knew something was different when Khlat removed the leash entirely. He was further surprised when the application of the whip became a caress, for direction only rather than primarily for torment and only secondarily for direction. Knowing that whatever the room contained would prove unpleasant at best, Kirk was nonetheless interested and curious. Thus far, Khlat's methods had been boringly monotonous.

Some sixth sense told Kirk the room was full of obstacles. But for ten minutes, Khlat directed him in a maze of moves during which he ran into nothing. Kirk began to wonder what the point of this was. Perhaps there was an audience, and Khlat wanted to crow about how docilely he followed orders even without being tied to a leash. Let them laugh; Kirk didn't mind. _Now why not?_ he asked himself. Another question whose answer was lost in the void of memories gone.

As Khlat continued to arrogantly boast of his power over Kirk, Konti turned to ask for Koh's opinion.

"I think it suits Kirk to play his game. I don't think Khlat has even come close to beating Kirk into submission. Look at the way he carries himself. 24 hours is not enough to exhaust him. It's too bad he's not a Klingon. He's certainly not the weakling most humans are."

Konti mentally agreed with Koh's assessment, but made no comment. Instead he watched Kirk intently as Khlat sent him toward the nail pile. He seemed to hesitate briefly as his feet first encountered the nails. Khlat touched the whip to the back of his legs, and Kirk strode briskly forward, climbing the pile of nails as if he was not barefoot. Near the top, the pile shifted under him, he lost his balance, and fell. He rolled down the opposite side of the pile, got to his feet, and stood waiting for Khlat's next direction.

For the next three hours, Khlat set him to tackle every obstacle in the room, most of them several times. In between each one, Khlat sent him through the nail pile again. After the third attempt, he was able to keep his feet through the shifting mass, thus avoiding damage to all but his feet and ankles.

It was Kirk's opinion that the other obstacles were not designed primarily for damage, though his feet did take a beating from the various ropes and things they wanted him to climb. If it hadn't been for the heavy chain between his legs, he would have thought he was back at home on the playground at school. In fact, he enjoyed the entire afternoon, in spite of the difficulties. Indeed, possibly because of them.

Khlat was sharp enough to know which of the obstacles bothered Kirk the most. So they did those four times each. That was the tightrope walk and the water tank. The water came up to his neck as he stood in the tank, and the tank was located directly under the tightrope, though he was not sure if Khlat knew he was aware of that danger. And the fourth time was no easier to face than the first, in fact, quite the opposite.

Nevertheless, he was sorry when the session was over and Khlat put the leash back on. He suspected it hadn't been nearly as much fun for the audience as it had been for him, because Khlat's application of the whip was extra vigorous.

They went back to the mess hall, and Kirk spent three hours as the center of another whipping party. When the crowd finally tired of it and left, Khlat again drove him relentlessly through the ship's corridors. Kirk knew he should give in, that Khlat would keep this up until Kirk could go no farther. But bored as he was with the routine, it wasn't in him to quit. _Now why_ - but no, he wasn't going to ask himself why questions.

_Stick to the present,_ he told himself firmly. And the only present concern was whether Khlat would keep this up all night. Actually Kirk hoped he would, because as tiring as this was, it was preferable to standing in one place all night trying to breathe. Unfortunately, Khlat quit at midnight and strung him up in the same corridor as the previous night.

Knowing that mental activity was important to keep him alert, Kirk spent the first hour going over the session in the gym. There had been ten obstacles other than the nail pile. He mentally located each one in relation to the others as well as the nail pile. Then he rehearsed the steps of each one til he had the whole thing memorized. He doubted they'd give him another chance at it, but just in case.

After he had exhausted that topic, Kirk spent several hours reviewing that last conversation with Spock. He wanted to be sure not to forget any of it. He quoted to himself, several times each, the arsenal of Scripture verses they had compiled the night before. He also put in outline form the Biblical principles they had discussed; then he memorized the outline.

As night wore on towards morning, Kirk's strength waned. _Another day of this will finish me,_ he thought. The idea did not particularly disturb him, and he was too tired to even wonder what the finish would be like. _'I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.'_ The verse came unbidden to his mind. _All things - even dying. Even another day of this boring but exhausting routine._

_ Lord, whatever this day brings, I want to meet it with Your strength. Mine has about had it, but Yours is inexhaustible. In Your strength, I can do what You want me to do today. This whole thing was Your idea, Lord. You've got me exactly where You want me, and I'm going to trust You to finish the job._

As traffic increased with morning shift change, Kirk noticed that some crewmen passed without hitting him. He could feel their footsteps through the floor. Maybe they were getting as bored as he was.

Then Khlat showed up. Kirk's interest brightened as he felt Khlat put straps across his chest. At least something was going to be different. Khlat attached the straps to something behind Kirk, and when he got the signal to go, Kirk discovered the something had considerable weight. Also, the first time he tried to stop, he discovered it had no brakes. It hit him forcefully in the back of the legs, sending him to his knees. Thereafter he put up a foot to stop the sled before it hit him.

As they began to move again, Kirk discovered the weight had doubled. The straps dug into his raw shoulder wounds, but once it was moving, it was relatively easy to pull. As the weight continued to vary up and down, Kirk deduced (correctly) that Khlat was giving rides on the sled to various crewmen. As the day wore on, Khlat increased the number of people on the sled. Kirk supposed if they were all standing up, there might be room for ten. Actually, at one point, there were twelve.

If the average Klingon weighed 200 pounds (and Kirk was sure most of them weighed more than that), then he was moving in excess of 2,000 pounds! He should not be able to budge a sled weighing that much. Therefore, what he was doing was using the Lord's strength.

The Klingons were impressed too. That did not suit Khlat at all, and he drove Kirk harder. But the harder he drove him, the more strength Kirk displayed. Khlat could not understand it. Kirk should be absolutely exhausted. Finally his time was up. He had skipped his meal and had been driving Kirk for twelve hours straight. He still looked as fresh and capable as the day he arrived. Khlat delivered him to Sickbay and admitted defeat.

Dr. Koh did not gloat, but graciously thanked Khlat for his work. He had not expected Khlat to break Kirk. Merely to provide entertainment for the crew, while softening him up for the real job ahead. Observing Konti watching, Khlat merely acknowledged Koh's words and took his leave.

Koh regarded Kirk in silence for a moment, then removed the leg and wrist manacles and dismissed the guards. He, Konti, and Kirk now had the room to themselves, and it wasn't even locked. Konti remarked on Koh's rashness in dismissing the guards.

"You're pretty sure of yourself, Doctor."

"Kirk doesn't know they were here, much less that they've gone."

"Don't be too sure. I'll bet he knows exactly where he is, and who you are. He probably knows I'm standing here, and he might even know the door's not locked. Never underestimate what this man knows or guesses."

"Then why isn't he doing anything about it?"

"You said it yourself yesterday. It suits him to play your game. Just remember: he's a tiger. If you treat him like a kitten just because he's acting like one at the moment, don't be surprised if you get clawed. Keep me informed."

With that, Konti left Koh alone with Kirk. The first thing Koh did was give Kirk a complete physical. Kirk imagined he heard Koh muttering over the readings. At least he probably wasn't going to tell him to lose weight. Now why- There was that pesky question again. _Get used to it_, he told himself. _You'll be asking that unanswerable question for the rest of your short life._

Koh was indeed muttering. "Most of it looks normal enough. You're dehydrated, which I would expect. We'll take care of that shortly. You're not as exhausted as I would have expected. In fact, you're not as fatigued as you were yesterday. The instrumentation must be malfunctioning, because this reading is impossible.

"Two other things are most puzzling as well. Your overall stress level is way too low. We shall have to take steps to fix that. I need it too high off the charts in order to have you ready to talk. The other puzzling result is this data on your brain waves. I'm no expert on human brain waves, but this looks slightly abnormal to me. Unfortunately, I don't find anything that explains that brief loss of consciousness yesterday. I expect you know; I wonder if you would tell me. Probably not."

Koh strapped Kirk to the table, installed a couple of IV's, gave him four injections, fiddled with the head device, and left. The first thing Kirk noticed was that the pains from the head device had doubled in intensity. They could no longer simply be ignored. He had the feeling that he knew how to deal with this, but could not remember. Maybe if he just let himself do it, without trying to think about it.

_All things, by Your strength, Lord. Even this, and whatever else Koh has planned._ Within twenty minutes, Kirk found out what some of those things were. He began to feel excessively hot, then cold, then both at once. Dripping with sweat and shaking with cold, he began to retch. He wondered if Koh had managed to give him a fast-acting stomach virus, or just poison. Whichever, it spread quickly to his intestines, giving him gut-wrenching abdominal pains. After about fifteen minutes, the worst of these symptoms passed, leaving him feeling very weak. Shortly thereafter, another drug began to manifest, and he felt as if his skin was crawling. Then overlapping that symptom, but continuing on long after the others had quit, he felt as if all the nerve endings in his hands and feet were being pinched.

Koh checked on him three times during all of that, but Kirk was so internally focused that he was unaware of him. Koh was not happy. The readings showed that in spite of all the drug-induced symptoms, Kirk's stress level was still way below normal. So he gave Kirk more injections. This time the symptoms lasted about twice as long, and were slightly more violent. However, because it was no longer new, Kirk did not give it his undivided attention. So he was aware of Koh's presence when he came in to check on him. He still thought the man had gentle hands.

He was not aware of how unhappy the readings made Koh. The stress level actually showed a decrease! It did not seem possible, but he rechecked it three times. Not understanding his results, Koh changed tactics. He brought in a black box and wired Kirk to it with leads placed in various locations: either side of the neck right behind the jaw, the crook of the elbow, behind the knee, several on the chest and abdomen, and the palm of his hands.

That last one puzzled Kirk. As far as he could tell, there was absolutely nothing to prevent him from removing the ones on his hands. Maybe Koh was playing psychological games now. Kirk set his will to leave the leads in place, no matter what.

What happened next took Kirk completely by surprise. Koh flipped the table he was lying on upside down, leaving him hanging by the three straps across his chest, hips, and thighs. Then Koh lifted the table off his back, reopening several of his whiplash wounds in the process. Koh attached more leads to his backside, while Kirk wondered if the straps really would hold him or break under the strain.

Koh then proceeded to attach something to the bottoms of his feet. It felt much like the other pads with wires attached, but these pads covered the entire surface of his soles. Koh taped the wires to the back of his legs as far up as the knees. But there was nothing restricting lower leg movement. In fact, Kirk could probably have kicked Koh. But he didn't see the point in that sort of rebellion. Nor did he see the point in prying the footpads off as soon as Koh left, which he undoubtedly could have done.

Koh turned on the power, spent perhaps fifteen minutes fiddling with each of the leads, then another twenty minutes or so programming the control box, and then left. Kirk hadn't expected to be left in this face-down position. The only thing keeping him from climbing out of this harness was the straps around his wrists. He briefly considered the idea of trying to free himself, and rejected it. There was nowhere to go. He no longer had the required knowledge to make an escape, and anyway, escape was no part of the plan for his future. What short future there would be.

It didn't take long for Kirk to analyze what Koh had done. This new apparatus worked much like the head device. There were three times as many locations. The intensity was all at the same level, though Kirk didn't find it completely unbearable. The type of pain was all the same too -a sharp, stabbing pain. And for each one there was a matching pain on the bottom of his foot.

When Koh had been gone over an hour, Kirk began to think about sleep. He was very tired, and although this was an awkward position for rest, at least he could breathe. Whether he could ignore the pain enough to fall asleep was another question.

It took him almost an hour of concentrated effort to force his body to relax and not tense up with the pains. Finally however, he was completely relaxed and able to stay that way if he focused his entire attention on the task. _There has to be an easier way_, he thought. _I know there's something that works more effectively; I just don't remember what it is._

Kirk fought his way past the mental agony that thought had produced. _Stop lamenting what you've lost_, he yelled at himself, _and use what you've got. What did you do during Spock's surgery? You hadn't lost your memory then. That's different - I wanted him to do that. Then what is there about this to want?_

Kirk thought about that briefly. _Every pain is bringing me closer to the end. That's it_, he thought. _The pain is not an enemy to be conquered. Welcome, accept, embrace it, and it loses its power._ With a contented sigh, Kirk fell soundly asleep.

xxxx

_Enterprise_ arrived at Outpost 67. Spock, Sulu, and McCoy made up the landing party. They were met by all four of the outpost crew, two of whom had obviously just woken up. Don stepped forward.

"Sir, thank you for coming. I'm sorry I don't have good news to report."

"Has something further happened, Lieutenant?" Spock asked.

"No sir, but Captain Kirk is gone. He wouldn't let us do anything to stop them. There's been absolutely nothing out of the Zone since they left, sir. I'm sorry."

"Lieutenant, your responsibility is to this outpost. Had you attempted to interfere with the kidnapping, both you and this outpost would have been destroyed. That action would have precipitated a war between the Klingons and the Federation. Captain Kirk did not want to be responsible for starting a war. I trust you don't either."

"No sir, but-" he paused uncertainly.

"But what, Lieutenant?" Spock prompted.

"He was so calm, so matter-of-fact about it. He had it planned from the first day he got here. He was expecting them. Sir, is he on some kind of espionage mission?"

Before Spock could reply, a sudden look of horror crossed Leon's face.

"Or- is he really working for them?" Leon immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, embarrassed both to have spoken out of turn, and to have voiced the accusation.

Sulu was immediately incensed and ignored Leon's chagrin. "How dare you accuse Jim of being a traitor!"

McCoy was quieter for once, but equally angry. "I'm surprised you can think that after living with him for a month."

"The best ones, you can never tell," Burt muttered.

They waited for Spock's response, the tension in the room thick enough to cut.

"Ensign, your conclusion that Captain Kirk is a spy is based on two things: his advance planning in anticipation of the Klingons' return, and his lack of fear. Is that correct? Are there other factors?"

"No, that's it, sir," Leon mumbled, staring at the floor.

Spock enlarged his attention to all four of them. "Doubtless, someone at Starfleet Headquarters will reach the same conclusion, and you will be asked some questions. Before filing any reports, you may want to consider that a wise captain plans in advance for logical outcomes. Also, Captain Kirk has faced death without fear repeatedly over the years. His reputation is well-known."

"Yes, thank you, sir. We'll remember that," Don answered for them all.

McCoy and Sulu backed down, and the tension eased. Spock asked a few more questions. McCoy informed them their crewmates were healthy enough to return. They collected Kirk's personal effects and departed. As they left the Transporter Room, McCoy was still muttering in disgust.

"A spy, indeed! What next?"

"Doctor, given a certain set of assumptions, it is not at all an illogical conclusion, especially if you factor in the phenomenon known as 'border outpost paranoia.'"

McCoy twitched a cheek at Spock's dry humor. He still wasn't feeling amused.

"We have the advantage of knowing the truth. Do not expect others to give him the benefit of the doubt." Spock pushed the 'lift call button, unerringly finding it by feel.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Kirk was still asleep when Koh arrived the next morning.

"How is our patient this morning?" he asked Khich, who was monitoring.

"You asked to be called if he went berserk, or started talking. He did neither, sir."

"And did he take off the footpads, or the hand leads?"

"No, sir, he never attempted it. There was one interesting reading, sir, but it puzzles me."

"Go on." Koh was never patient with dithering, and Khich rarely prevaricated.

"About two hours after you left, sir, his stress level showed a marked increase. But there's no outward behavior that goes with it. Here's the video playback. See what I mean? He looks unconscious, but he's not. The readings show he was wide awake. However, just after the high stress reading, everything plummeted. All the readings since then indicate he's asleep."

"Asleep!? How could he be?!"

"I don't know, sir, but the instruments don't lie, sir. He is asleep, and has been for almost eight hours." Khich was certain; he'd abandoned all hesitation.

Koh sat down in shock. "Khich, what am I going to do? I promised Konti results. I was sure he would crack today. But if he can sleep through that, I don't know. Are you sure everything's working?"

"Yes, sir. I checked three times. If you want my opinion," he paused and Koh nodded, "Throw him everything you've got all at once. If that doesn't do it, nothing will."

"Perhaps, but that gives me an idea. Tell Krun I'll need him most of the day. And get the treadmill sent in here before you leave. I think breakfast is in order for our most important patient."

Kirk woke up when Koh switched off the power. He felt Koh flip a switch on the head device as well, leaving him completely pain-free. The suddenness of it was a shock. Koh flipped the table right side up. Kirk's neck muscles protested as he gingerly put his head down. Koh then tilted the head of the table, putting Kirk in a half-sitting position - almost comfortable.

Kirk was even further surprised when Koh put a straw to his mouth - an invitation to drink. _I'll probably be sorry_, Kirk thought. But it was irresistible, a fruit drink of some kind. Remembering how long it had been since he'd put anything in his stomach, Kirk drank slowly, expecting Koh to remove it at any time. But Koh was patient and let him finish the whole glassful.

Koh then gave him two injections and left. Kirk expected a return of the stomach virus symptoms of the day before. And with the juice in his stomach, the results would be somewhat nastier. But as the minutes passed, his stomach remained calm. Nor did he feel at all feverish. Instead a feeling of well-being came over him. It was euphoric. In fact, he was definitely high. _What goes up must come down_, he thought with some amusement. _And Koh will undoubtedly arrange it to be a crash. _ Meanwhile he might as well enjoy himself.

He felt emotionally on top of the world. He felt as if he could do anything. In fact, he was positively itching to do something, anything. His muscles seemed bursting with energy. It became a real struggle to calmly sit there doing nothing, waiting for the drugs to wear off. But in his drug-induced euphoria, he was sure he could manage it. He wasn't even aware that his muscles were tensing up, straining against the straps.

Koh, however, noticed it immediately when the crewman brought in the treadmill. He nodded to himself in satisfaction. At least Kirk couldn't ignore the drugs. He waited until the crewman had left and Krun had locked the door. Just a precaution in case Kirk tried to escape. Koh didn't think he would, but Konti's warning had been clear.

Koh spent a few minutes taping wires to Kirk's skin so they wouldn't drag. Then he released the straps holding Kirk down and stepped back. He took up a position in the corner and just watched to see what Kirk would do.

Kirk stood up cautiously, as if unsure this was to be allowed. He took a deep breath, straightened his back, settled his feet, and seemed to come to some internal conclusion. What he did next surprised Koh. He proceeded to make a minute inspection of the entire room and its contents with his fingers.

It did not surprise Koh that Kirk didn't immediately rip off all the wires. What did surprise him was the delicacy and carefulness with which Kirk moved. Koh knew that Kirk's muscles were positively crying for activity - lots of it. He wasn't even all that surprised that Kirk had the self-discipline to refuse to give in to that crying need. What he didn't understand was why Kirk thought this activity so important that he would choose it over something more active.

But Kirk needed mental input as much as his body craved activity. And if Koh was going to stand there and let him do this, he was going to take advantage of the opportunity. He carefully avoided the door. He didn't want Koh to think he was going to try to go through it. When he got to the treadmill, it didn't take him long to figure out what it was, and even less time to guess this was what Koh wanted him to do. Well, he would, but not just yet.

The last thing in the room to be inspected was Koh himself. Kirk did it mostly to find out if Koh would let him. He approached Koh slowly, giving him ample time to evade him if he wished. But Koh stood stock still and let Kirk examine his face, ears, neck, chest, arms, and hands with the tips of his fingers. His touch was very light and quick. Then Kirk stepped back and spoke the first words he had uttered since the head device had been put on.

"Thank you." He had to say it in Standard, because there was no Klingon equivalent.

Koh was profoundly moved, but could not have said why.

Kirk turned briskly back to the treadmill, set it in motion and stepped up on it. For the next half hour, Kirk gave himself a good workout. He had just settled into a gait he could keep up for hours, when suddenly he felt like he'd run into a brick wall. He fell to his knees, and it was only after he'd fallen off the treadmill that he realized what had happened.

The pains had returned en masse, and at a higher intensity than anything previous. What's more, they were still going full blast, all locations at once. Before he could manage to get up, Koh darted in, delivered another injection, and stepped back to his corner. Kirk gained his feet and stood there swaying, trying to mentally assimilate the idea that they had a remote control on these pain devices.

Without conscious volition, Kirk dialed the treadmill back to a walk, stepped up on it, and started walking. The euphoria was gone; in its place, agony, made worse with every step. Kirk didn't try to analyze why he did what he did, beyond a vague sense that activity was better than no activity. And he didn't think it had anything to do with the drug-induced muscle tension.

After a few minutes, the pain stopped as abruptly as it had started. Kirk took a deep breath, dialed back to his previous speed, and resumed jogging. A few minutes later the latest injection kicked in, and his muscles were in danger of cramping. He stepped up the pace to a run, and two minutes later the pain hit him like a ton of bricks.

Again he fell off the treadmill, but recovered much faster. Koh put him through the same sequence half a dozen times, varying only the frequency. Kirk got so he could adjust fast enough not to fall off. The last two times, he hardly even slowed down. Koh gave it up, and left the room. Kirk continued jogging, wondering what was next.

Koh was wondering the same thing. He checked with Krun about the stress readings. The news was as he had feared. The highest reading had been the first one, and even that had showed only surprise. Nothing Koh had done had been able to crack Kirk's emotional stability.

In desperation, Koh planned 24 hours of the worst misery he could concoct. A variety of injections producing nasty symptoms, coupled with unremitting pain from the two devices. He added several taped messages, some of them urging Kirk to talk in order to get relief from the pain, others describing various gruesome procedures in gory detail. Unfortunately the victim would not survive such procedures. Before implementing this plan, Koh tried one other thing. He turned on the speaker in Kirk's head device, and spoke into the mike.

"I want to talk to you."

Kirk stepped off the treadmill and stood facing the observation window.

"I'm listening."

"You could save yourself a lot of pain by talking. Why don't you?"

"Am I to infer your bag of tricks is empty?"

"No. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Why else would you try to negotiate with the enemy? Bring on the worst you've got. The sooner you do, the sooner you'll be convinced this is a waste of time."

Koh turned off the speaker, aware that Kirk had just given him the same advice Khich had that morning. He looked through the window at Kirk, who was just standing there waiting. His stance wasn't exactly arrogant, but calmly confident. He knew very well what he had just asked for, but didn't appear to be the least apprehensive. Koh was determined to crack that confidence. He barked at Krun.

"Maximum non-lethal setting. Both devices on all locations. Now!"

Koh watched Kirk stagger, then crumple to the floor. But there was no scream of agony, no facial contortions or clenched fists. Instead a mere ghost of a smile on his face as he lost consciousness.

Kirk spent most of the next 48 hours in a sea of agony. The first couple of hours, he drifted in and out of consciousness, til they got it regulated to the maximum he could tolerate without losing consciousness. Then occasionally they backed it off to make sure he was aware of all the other drug-induced symptoms. Every hour or so, they talked to him, and when he didn't answer, they blasted him with enough pain to put him out for a few minutes.

Kirk knew all he had to do was endure it. Koh would eventually give up. The only question was how many hours it would take. He was prepared for it to take days. He did not know that what infuriated Koh the most was his ability to accept the torture without complaint or resistance of any kind. Kirk did not know he was doing anything unusual; he was merely coping the best way he knew how.

After 24 hours, Koh made a few adjustments in the program, and ordered it be continued for a second 24 hours. After that, he would have to use the talking drug, no matter what Kirk's stress reading showed. He could hardly believe it was still showing under normal. For the first time, it occurred to him that there was a reason for Kirk's confidence. But what the man's secret was, Koh had no clue.

After 48 hours, Konti showed up. Koh gave his report without any excuses. Konti didn't seem at all surprised at the lack of results. He ordered the talk drug administered at once.

"He's barely conscious, sir. And several of the drugs are still working their way through his system."

"Doesn't matter how coherent he is. I want to know what he's thinking."

Within minutes after Koh administered the talking drug, Kirk started talking.

"I wonder what that one was for. Doesn't seem to be any immediate change. Oh- I said that out loud. So that's what this one is. I was wondering when you'd get around to this. Well, I won't bore you with the multiplication tables, but you better ask me a question I can answer, or you're liable to get the Gettysburg Address. Or would you prefer the Declaration of Independence? The Gettysburg Address is shorter."

He paused and Konti broke in.

"How do you feel?"

"Now that's a pretty general question, open to several interpretations. Where I come from, the standard polite response is 'I'm fine,' whether or not you really are. You might be asking for a recitation of physical symptoms, though I imagine Koh could give you a pretty accurate summary. Or you might be asking about my emotional state."

"How do you know that I am not Koh?"

"I recognize the sound of your voice."

"And who am I?" Konti demanded.

"You are Konti. I am Kirk. You own me. I am your slave. Now that we have the introductions out of the way, what would you like to know?"

"You are too arrogant."

Kirk would have shrugged if he'd had enough freedom of movement. "Sorry, but discretion will have to wait til this drug wears off. Until then, you get whatever I'm thinking, without editing."

"Why do you have no fear?"

"There's nothing you can do to me that I fear. I do not fear pain or death; nor do I fear life as your slave. I do not even fear this conversation. There is nothing I can tell you that I object to your knowing."

Konti protested, "If you do not object, then why didn't you start talking days ago?"

"You would not have believed me. Even now you will have trouble believing it, but under the influence of this drug, I can't lie to you, so you will be forced to believe it."

"What is it that I wouldn't believe?"

"That all the information you seek has already been erased from my mind. I remember nothing between the day I entered the Academy and the moment I boarded your ship."

"We have ways of dealing with memory blocks."

"This isn't a memory block. The memories have been permanently removed from my mind."

"You mean like the mindsifter?"

"Yes, but this wasn't done by a mindsifter, and my early memories are intact."

"How was this done, and when?" Konti demanded furiously.

"We did it the morning after the first night aboard. You may have heard that I lost consciousness briefly. As to how it was done, I don't really know. There was a presence in my mind and he did it. He's gone now, so I can't ask him how he did it."

"Does this presence have a name?"

"Yes. His name is Spock."

"Who is Spock?" Konti's tone was suddenly mild, almost mocking.

"I don't know. I have asked myself that question several times in the past few days. I assume he's not human, because no human could do what he did. But what form he has, if any, I have no idea. I do know this: he is a friend, a very special friend."

"What friend would violate your mind the way you say he did?"

"He didn't want to. I insisted. I take full responsibility."

Konti sighed. "Yes, you undoubtedly will, since you are here, and he is not. And you're right; it is very hard to believe, since I do not know of any species with the capability of doing what you say he did. Not at long distance anyway. I'm afraid you will have to prove it."

What followed was a grueling, hours-long session of constant questioning. They gave him another dose of the talking drug every hour. By the end of it, Kirk was sure he was just babbling. Very few of the questions had any answer other than 'I don't know.' By the nature of some of the questions, he was able to deduce that he had been a person of some importance in Starfleet. The Klingons felt he was a significant enemy.

One question in the middle of it all surprised him. There had been at least three questioners taking turns. This one came from Koh.

"Why is your stress reading so much higher now than it was yesterday, or even this morning?"

"I do not know exactly what it measures, but if you want to know why this activity bothers me in a way that all the rest of it didn't, that I can answer. It's because every question forces me to look into the aching void of lost memories and face the reality that thirty years of my life are gone. It hurts in a way that touches the real me more than any physical pain could."

He did not know it, but that answer did more to convince Konti he was telling the truth than all the 'I don't know's put together. Nevertheless the questioning went on for several more hours. Eventually they took a break, but Kirk could not rest. It took several hours for the drug to wear off, and although they didn't pester him with any other drugs, they did leave the pain devices set on maximum. They'd been at the max for the past two days, but Kirk couldn't manage to sleep through it regardless of how exhausted he was, or perhaps because of it.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

They were back early the next morning with more hours of questions. But as they were all repetitions of those asked the day before, Kirk was bored. His answers grew increasingly flippant and obnoxious. Khlat was clearly disturbed by Kirk's attitude. Konti just ignored it. Koh observed that his stress readings were again low as they had been before. He muttered something about Kirk's uncanny ability to adjust to absolutely anything.

Finally Kirk was so exhausted that his replies were nothing more than mumbles. Konti asked Koh for an opinion.

"He's at the point of physical and mental exhaustion. Emotionally, however, he's stable as a rock," Koh insisted.

"Do you know anything about Spock? Can the Vulcan do what Kirk says he did?"

"Not that I've heard, but nobody knows what all Vulcans can do."

"Well, regardless of how it was done, I'm afraid we have to face the fact that his memory is gone. He couldn't possibly be holding out on us, could he?" Konti glared at Koh, almost ready to take his frustration out on his oldest friend.

"No, sir, it's not possible. And if it were, he couldn't do it without some indication on his readings, and there's nothing, absolutely nothing."

"So it's true, and Command is not going to be happy. Meanwhile, what do I do with him?"

"You could kill him," Koh suggested.

"Yes, I could, and I probably will, but not just yet. Khlat, fetch the branding iron."

Kirk was dimly aware that they had stopped asking questions, but he was too far gone to notice that they had entered the room. The first inkling he had that something was about to change was when they flipped him right side up and took off the straps. His mental fog evaporated and he was immediately alert. He still could not control his tongue, however.

"I see you finally got as tired of those questions as I did."

He was rather surprised to feel Koh's hands removing the head device entirely.

"Having had this on for a week, I feel undressed without it."

Khlat snorted, "You are undressed!"

Kirk was assaulted by sounds of all kinds, most of which he normally would have ignored as simply background noise. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, and still hurt from the light leaking through.

"From sensory deprivation to overload in seconds. Very effective."

"Get up." It was Konti's voice.

"He can't," Koh protested.

"That's a challenge if I ever heard one. I'll grant you it would be easier if you'd turned off the other pain device too, but I gather you're not going to do that. You want to know if I'm really as exhausted as your instruments say I am. Probably. I have no idea whether I can get up, but there's only one way to find out."

He was moving as he continued to talk.

"When I was a kid, I was a sucker for dares. Finally they stopped asking me, because I so often succeeded in doing what they wouldn't have tried."

Kirk managed to sit up and swing his feet over the edge. When he tried to stand up, he fell in a heap on the floor. Khlat snorted in triumph; Koh muttered, "I told you so;" Konti just waited. Kirk got his feet under him and slowly stood up. Konti heard him muttering as he did so.

"I will open them. I will keep them open."

In Kirk's mind, there was no longer any question that he could and would stand up. He had moved on to the next challenge, that of opening his eyes. As he stood erect, he faced Konti with wide open eyes.

"I can't see anything except red spots, but the eyes are open. I would like to know what you see in my eyes."

Koh was surprised that Konti answered.

"I do not have words for what I see. More to the point is what I do not see: anger, hatred, or bitterness. Nevertheless, it is the seventh day. Kneel."

"Ah. Back to that again. I wondered why you wanted the head device off." Kirk knelt as he continued to speak. "I suppose it gets in the way."

Kirk continued to run off at the mouth. Normally he would have dignified the ceremony with silence, but pumped full of that drug, he found silence impossible.

Konti had timed it this way on purpose. Unnerved by what he had seen in Kirk's eyes the first time, Konti wanted to know Kirk's thoughts. Also he was curious to see whether Kirk could remain motionless in spite of extreme fatigue and maximum pain from the electric leads. Given what he had seen in the last 24 hours, Konti wasn't very surprised that Kirk could manage a second perfect performance. What did surprise him was Kirk's thoughts.

His tone of voice was that of casual conversation between friends. Not a trace of fear or anger. Calmly confident, he was not self-focused. By no means completely oblivious to the proceedings, he was more interested in Konti than himself. Suddenly the tone of voice changed. Konti couldn't analyze the difference, but it was clearly there. Nor did he understand the words, though they were in Klingon.

"Jesus, open my eyes that I may see Konti's soul."

A moment later, "Thank you, Lord."

Then, "Konti, you don't like doing this."

Kirk was obviously surprised, but Konti was so startled by this statement, he nearly dropped the branding iron. How could Kirk know that?

"I'm sorry I startled you. Did I ruin your artwork? I don't mind if you have to do it over, but maybe you better wait til this drug wears off so I won't distract you. Or maybe you could just put a piece of tape over my mouth."

Konti put the branding iron away and returned to examine Kirk's face.

"There's a small spot on your nose, but the brand is fine."

"I'm glad. Konti, what is it about this that you don't like? How can I help you?"

Konti refused to answer. Making the knife wound quickly, he departed with haste, signaling Koh to follow. They left Kirk unrestrained, with eyes and ears functioning, and they didn't even lock the door. Khlat left too, but watched Kirk from the monitoring room.

"Well, that's interesting." Kirk continued talking to himself. "Konti's obviously pretty upset. I wonder why? Lord, speak peace to his soul right now."

He continued to pray for Konti, then also for Koh and Khlat as well. As he did so, he stood up, did several stretching exercises, and turning on the treadmill, began a slow jog. He tried to ignore the fact that it felt like he was walking on spikes through a field of knife points. He knew his muscles needed the workout, and he had no idea how long it would be before they strapped him down again.

Konti strode into Koh's office, sat heavily in Koh's chair, and gestured for Koh to shut the door.

"What is it with that man? Koh, he rattles me! Why?"

"Konti, we've known each other a long time. I wouldn't dare say this to anyone else. If you let Kirk get under your skin, you'll live to regret it. I don't exactly know why, but my opinion is the sooner you kill him, the safer we'll be. He hasn't made one aggressive move since he got here, but he's got you rattled, and me rattled, and you saw Khlat the other day when he brought Kirk in here."

"But Koh, I don't want to kill him. I like him!"

"All the more reason you better. And for what it's worth, I like him too. But consider this. So far he's been very cooperative. What happens when he decides he's through playing our little games? I have absolutely no way to control him. There is nothing I can do that he fears." Koh slumped in defeat.

"That's part of why I like him. Oh, if only he was a Klingon! It would be glorious!" He shook himself mentally. "But he's not." Konti sighed. "I think what rattles me is something I see in his eyes. Have you ever looked into his eyes, Koh?"

"No, but I'll tell you something he did that rattled me. It was several days ago. I had him pumped full of XPL-4. That's a drug that produces an urgent need to move the muscles. I thought the conflict between that and having every move produce agony would drive him over the edge. It didn't. Anyway, I had removed the straps so he could get up and find the treadmill. He found it with no trouble, but he was more interested in exploring everything in the room with his fingers. Including me."

"You let him touch you?!" Konti was alarmed at Koh's lapse of common sense.

"I did. I don't know why. Maybe there was some kind of challenge in his body language. He didn't say a word, and he gave me plenty of time to evade him. He could have gouged my eyes out. Probably the reason he didn't is the same reason he makes no effort to remove those electric leads. But I don't know what that is either.

"So there you have it. He's a mystery. And anything I don't understand is dangerous. So my advice is kill him, and do it now, while you still can."

"I can't. Command would have a fit, slave status not withstanding. They want him alive. And if we can't get him to talk, they'll have the mindsifter on him as soon as we get back. I'll fight it because he's my slave, but they'll undoubtedly win. What an inglorious end!" Konti shook his head at the thought.

"So how much time have we got left?"

"Another week at the outside. I can't stall any longer."

"I've got one more idea. I think Kirk is very social. And he gets bored when there's nothing new happening. I've got a machine designed to promote healing. But I think I can fix it to make him completely isolated, total sensory deprivation including gravity, absolute immobility, maximum pain, and a constant dose of the talk drug. No contact and no change; if I leave him there for days, maybe, just maybe, he'll crack."

Konti shuddered mentally. He wouldn't wish that kind of treatment on his worst enemy. But - it was better than the mindsifter.

"Do it. Seven days. And I want a complete recording of everything he says, whether it seems relevant or not."

They returned to the monitoring room, and Konti left, taking Khlat with him.

"Well Krun, what's he been doing?" Koh asked.

"The treadmill, sir. He never approached the door. And you can see he hasn't tried to take off the leads. To see him move, you'd never know he was in pain. But I haven't touched the dial, sir. It's still sitting at 40, the max he can tolerate."

"That's with the head device on too. We don't know what he can tolerate with just wires. Start increasing it, but slowly - just five points at a time, every five minutes. I want to know how long it takes him to realize it's increasing, what he does about it, if anything, and how high he can tolerate without losing consciousness."

Meanwhile Kirk had been enjoying his workout. The talk drug had worn off, and he had fallen into grateful silence. He didn't immediately notice the increase in pain level, because it coincided with pushing the limits on his workout. So it was only during the cool down phase that he noticed the pain wasn't decreasing. But it certainly wasn't increasing very fast. Maybe he could manage to take a nap.

He figured out how to turn the table right side up, and lay down. But he couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep. So he hopped off the table, turned it into a reclining chair, and hopped back on. By this time the pain was roughly double what it had been, and he was just as glad to remain stationary. If they kept this up, he'd be unconscious soon. He relaxed all his muscles and just let it happen.

Krun reported to Koh.

"Sir, I'm afraid I have no idea when he became aware of the increased pain. It didn't look to me as if there was any change in his behavior or facial expression. He hasn't said a word since the drug wore off. He finished his workout, then got comfortable on the table. That's all he's done. According to the instruments, he's unconscious, but I can't tell by looking at him."

"What's your present reading?"

"130, sir. He blacked out at 125."

"Pull it down to 115. When the instruments say he's conscious, kick it all the way up to 200. I want him out cold for at least an hour."

xxxx

When Kirk regained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was that the pain had returned to what he thought of as normal - the level it had been at for days, the max he could tolerate without losing consciousness. That meant the head device was back, which he confirmed by opening his eyes on utter darkness.

The second thing he noticed was the lack of gravity. The third was his immobility. But it was an externally applied force of some kind; there was nothing wrong with his nerves and muscles. The last thing he noticed was that he was thinking out loud again. That was how long it took him to figure out where he was and what they were doing.

He laughed. "I will undoubtedly regret saying this, but this is eminently more comfortable than hanging upside down by those three straps. So, complete sensory deprivation. Sorry, the lack of gravity doesn't bother me a bit. Lack of sight and sound feels normal. Even the lack of mobility isn't a problem. So you're wasting your time, but I don't mind. Keep it up as long as you like. And if it amuses you to listen to my every thought, feel free. You'll get an earful, I promise you."

He launched into a recitation of all the Scripture verses he knew, followed by the outline of Christian theology he had worked out the previous week. After a second complete rendition, he announced his intention to sleep until 0700. He then asked the Lord to silence his tongue, put him to sleep, and wake him at precisely 0700 ship's time. And the Lord did as he asked.

He began that next morning with as complete a muscle workout as he could manage, given that it all had to be isometric. He followed that with another complete recitation of Scripture and theology outline. Next he gave a one-hour lecture expanding on the first point of the outline. Then he spent an hour in prayer. He repeated this sequence of activities twice more, then again slept until 0700 the next morning.

The second day he was much more rested. Also getting rather bored. But he dutifully went through the routine he had established for himself, knowing how dangerous it would be mentally to abandon the routine. However when he had finished three rounds of the routine, he was by no means ready for sleep. So he added an element for the evening hours: meditation on the Scripture verses. He got through the first five, and then called it quits for the day.

First thing the next morning, he was again tempted to abandon the routine.

"You're bored, right? Let's liven things up."

"Right. Straight into the pit of despair. No thank you."

"Are you afraid?"

"No, and I'm not stupid either."

And he proceeded vigorously with the first round of the routine. Towards the end of his prayer time that first round, the Lord spoke in a still, small voice.

"Jim, I want you to abandon the routine."

It undoubtedly sounded just like another conversation with himself, but to Kirk, it was a clear communication from God.

"Lord, you know I'm willing to do whatever You want, but it would help me to be sure that I'm hearing You correctly if You told me why."

"They are doing this to you in the hopes that you'll go nuts. You established the routine in order to avoid that. I want to show them what happens when you lose it. Do you trust me that much?"

"Yes, Lord, I trust You. I've got a couple of questions though. What does going insane look like?"

"You tell me."

"Well I guess it starts with admitting to myself that I can't stand any more. Outward manifestation might be screaming, sobbing, begging, maybe all of that; a completely out-of-control response of some kind. Oh, and Koh has some kind of stress reading machine. That would have to show significant emotional trauma, or he'd think I was faking the whole thing, which of course I could.

"That brings me to the next question: How do I get from here to there? What do you want me to do? And what if it takes days?"

"How many days have you been here already?"

"Almost three."

"Without the routine you would have no idea, and it will feel like almost forever."

"Okay, scratch the question about days. If it takes too long, that's their problem."

"What exactly concerns you about the time?"

"Two things really. On the seventh day, Konti has to do his branding thing again. I doubt if he can do it without taking me out of this box. The other thing is I'm guessing that he's getting pressure from his superior to produce results. I don't know how much longer he can stall."

"Will you trust me for the timing?"

"Yes, I will. So, what do you want me to do?"

"This is not something you can make happen. You have to let it happen. But if you want something to do, focus your thoughts on how this feels. But don't try to control your thoughts. Let them wander where they will. Avoid routines and discipline. Let the effects accumulate. Be patient."

"Thank you. That helps."

He proceeded to describe in some detail what it felt like to be completely isolated. Then he talked about the pain for a while. But that was a dead issue; it didn't effect him emotionally at all. So he went back to talking about the isolation. Unfortunately, while it wasn't particularly pleasant, he wasn't afraid of it. He knew it would end eventually, and it wasn't especially difficult to endure. But the Lord had said the effects would accumulate. Maybe he'd feel differently after he lost all track of time.

Meanwhile he let his mind wander to several events from his childhood. Then to some favorite Scripture verses. Then back to the isolation. No change. Be patient.

He spent some time dealing with the question of whether he feared going insane. Looked at objectively, no he didn't. It mattered very little whether his last days were spent sane or insane. But the process of losing his mind by losing all touch with reality - apprehension was too mild a word. Yes, he feared it. He feared the loss of control, as well as the loss of identity. All of which did not mean he was quitting.

He spent quite a while letting his imagination run wild with what-if questions. It didn't work. He always came back to the reality that he knew exactly where he was and why. He also knew how long it was likely to go on. And his proof that they were still there was the talking drug. They were obviously pumping it into him through the IV, but somebody had to replenish the supply.

Back to the isolation issue - no real change. He had no idea what time it was, but if fatigue was any indicator, it felt like the middle of the night. They'd probably have to wait til he was so exhausted, that he wasn't thinking clearly. That could take a while.

He went and stared into the gaping hole of lost memories for a long time. That was emotionally painful, but didn't contribute much to the isolation issue. It just took up some time. Forcing his mind to stay undisciplined was difficult. He finally went back to Scripture verses, because he was too tired to do anything else. Besides he liked them.

By the end of the second day Kirk was no longer thinking in complete sentences. A word or phrase expressed the whole thought. He was also hoarse from talking non-stop, so his words were little more than whispers. But he was not so exhausted that he couldn't think. And his soul stubbornly clung to the truths he knew, in spite of the lack of outside input. Much as he would have liked to speed up the process because he was tired, he knew that nothing but the real thing would do, and that could not be hurried.

He spent most of the third day muttering single word thoughts, like 'alone', 'lose', 'insane', 'reality', 'trust', 'all things', 'patience'. He was mentally exhausted, but emotionally, nowhere near the trauma stage. He supposed eventually it would drive him mad, but so far there was no sign of it. He gathered the energy for a whole sentence.

"Lord, I'm willing to stay here, but I can't get where You want me. Maybe You better do it for me."

"Are you asking me to?"

"Yes, Lord, please."

Suddenly his voice was loud and clear. Koh and Khich sat up startled.

"Koh, Khich, I am using Kirk's voice, but he cannot hear me. I will do this because he asks. It will not be as he imagines it, or as you expect. I have restored his voice, so you can hear clearly. In two hours, I will put him to sleep."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Kirk's first reaction was curiosity. The sudden cutting of a connection left him with no body awareness. He felt no pain; was not aware that he continued to speak every thought aloud. It was as if his body did not exist. The concept of reality was a foreign idea. He wondered if this was what death felt like. Maybe he had in fact just died. Probably not though. That had been much too easy.

He debated with himself over the concept of life and death for some while. Finally he decided life was an illusion, and proceeded to create for his amusement a universe to his liking. Plenty of diversity, but no war. People lived in peace and harmony together, finding joy in their relationships. His work was creating order out of chaos, and because his universe was expanding, there were always new challenges, and he was never bored. But nobody died, and nobody was left alone and abandoned.

Much of the second hour was spent debating the existence of God. If life was an illusion, maybe God was too. But his final conclusion was that God was real even if all else was not. Furthermore God had put him where he was, and God was utterly trustworthy, by definition.

That settled, his heart was at peace, and he returned to quoting his favorite Scripture verses. He briefly considered the idea of having a temper tantrum, screaming and sobbing that he couldn't stand it. But it wasn't how he felt, and Koh would know it. Assuming Koh wasn't a figment of his imagination, which he probably was, but so what. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered, except that he would continue to trust the Lord.

Khich watched the clock intently. As the two hour limit was reached, Kirk abruptly stopped talking. Within thirty seconds his instruments showed that Kirk was indeed sleeping. Turning to Koh with his report, he braved a question.

"Dr. Koh, how does Kirk know my name?"

"I don't know. Konti isn't going to like any of this. Let me know if he wakes up."

Kirk woke at precisely 0700 the next morning. His body awareness and sense of reality were again functioning normally.

"Good morning, Lord. Thank you. That was very interesting," referring to the previous evening's experience. "In fact, it was all very interesting. Just one question: now what?"

"You may do anything you like this morning."

So Kirk finished his lectures on the Christian doctrine outline. He followed that with meditations on the rest of the Scripture verses. He had just finished a lengthy time of prayer, most of which was intercession for Konti and Koh, when he noticed a change. He was surprised by how much the change startled him, even though it was the first such change in who knew how many days.

Gravity was being restored, 1/10 G at a time. That was considerate of them, but perhaps the machine wouldn't do it any faster. Then the pain devices were switched off. The absence of pain reminded him of the previous evening, but he was reasonably certain this was reality. Finally the force field keeping him immobile was switched off.

Hands which felt like Koh's removed the head device. Then the same hands proceeded to remove the IV's and all the electric leads.

"So, not only is this seventh day branding time, but bigger changes are afoot. Koh, you might ask Konti if he wants to put a piece of tape over my mouth. It doesn't matter to me, but I'd hate for him to be embarrassed by something I said."

"I don't know why you should care. Besides, it would create an intolerable internal tension."

Kirk laughed. "I don't know why you should care. Besides, isn't that what you've been trying to create for two weeks?"

"Yes, and you're the most annoyingly stable patient I've ever had."

"I'm sorry to frustrate you, but I can't be other than who I am. Your instruments would have immediately detected a false show of emotion. So internal tension, sure, but intolerable? I doubt it."

"So you ask him."

"Okay, I will. Biggest question now is whether I can manage to get off this table. After that is the eyes. If there's anything I really have to see, I'll have to ask the Lord for another miracle."

"Another one?"

"Yes, last week He fixed the eyes so I could see Konti."

"So you couldn't see, and suddenly, you could see?"

"That's right."

Kirk felt Koh pry his eyes open and shine a very bright light into each one.

"Well that blinds me for sure."

"I don't see anything wrong with your eyes. They'll recover eventually. Not that it'll do you any good."

"So there's nothing I really have to see?"

"Ask Konti. Now get up, so I can do the leads on your backside."

Kirk sat up slowly and swung his legs over the side.

"Biggest problem is dizziness. Won't be surprised if I end up on the floor again." He was moving as he talked. "Maybe this'll work."

He slid off the table, clung to it, turned to face the table, and leaned over it. Koh continued his work. Kirk gradually was able to stand upright without clinging to the table for support.

"Koh, before I leave, I want to tell you how much I appreciate your gentle hands. I'm sorry I wasn't a more cooperative patient."

"I don't understand you," Koh admitted a bit grumpily.

"Listen to the tape from the past week."

"Well, I'm done. Konti, he's all yours."

Konti took one step forward, and Kirk turned towards the sound. He stood waiting for Konti to speak.

"Silence?"

"I thought I'd try controlling the tongue, but I'm afraid it's not reliable. Tape would be safer. What about the eyes?"

"Koh, how long before the drug wears off?"

"I don't know, since it's not usually administered the way he's been getting it. An hour at least, maybe longer."

"I can't wait that long. Fetch the tape."

Koh left.

"How do you know I don't like branding?" Konti demanded warily.

"I saw it in your eyes."

"And why did you insist on becoming my slave?"

"I don't expect you to understand this, but I did it because I believe the Lord Jesus Christ wanted me to. I don't yet know why."

Koh returned with the tape, and Konti gestured him to apply it.

"Up until now, everything that has happened to you, except for the branding and removal of your uniform, would have happened regardless. Today however will be far different. You will pay dearly for having made that choice.

"We are now orbiting the home world. I will take you to the capital, my home city, where I will parade you through the streets. It is a time-honored tradition, and everyone that sees you will know what you have done. I will make no attempt to convince them that you do not deserve their contempt. Furthermore, tradition requires that you not speak without my express permission. I shall tell no one the true reason for the tape. They will assume you are an undisciplined coward, and clumsy as well, since I will not tell them you are blind.

"The parade ends in the State Assembly, where I will again perform the branding ceremony. That audience will know who you are. Many of them carry personal grudges against you. Emotions are likely to be strong. Following the branding, I will have to defend my right to keep you. I expect the mindsifter to play a prominent role in the discussion. I do not expect to win the argument.

"Do you understand?"

Kirk nodded his head.

xxxx

It was every bit as bad as Kirk had imagined. Konti held the leash attached to Kirk's collar. Khlat with the whip followed. But there was no organized system of giving directions as Khlat had used before. Kirk had simply to guess from the feel of the leash when to stop, go, and turn. This would not have been too difficult except that the surface underfoot was very uneven, providing many opportunities for tripping.

He stopped counting after the tenth fall. Each fall pulled the leash taut, which cut off his air. Further, he could not break his fall because his hands were tied behind his back. And Khlat would start in with the whip at the slightest faltering in his step. And occasionally with no excuse whatever. Kirk just ignored him and tried to concentrate on the leash in front of him.

The citizenry of all ages made sport of him. Some threw rocks, though fortunately not big ones. Others threw refuse, the contents of slop buckets, and worse. Kirk tried to ignore their contempt, since it was based largely in ignorance, but the noise and emotion beat against him almost like a physical wave.

The parade took several hours. Kirk made no attempt to keep track of their location or route, but it seemed as if they traversed the entire city on foot. Finally they stopped, and Kirk heard the sound of running water. Immediately thereafter he received a bucket of cold water in the face. As Khlat doused him with bucket after bucket of cold water, Kirk realized they were trying to remove the worst of what smelled. For this he was grateful, though it left him shivering from the cold.

This done, he followed Konti into a building with many steps up to the entrance. Inside was considerably warmer, because he was out of the wind. Konti stopped to speak with several people as they were directed further into the building. Finally coming to what seemed a small room, which was empty but for themselves, Konti turned and looked at Kirk.

Kirk was not sure what Konti saw, but all he said was, "Still blind?"

Kirk nodded his head. Nothing that had occurred thus far required functioning eyes, and he did not anticipate the need for them in what was about to occur, so he did not plan to ask the Lord to heal them.

Konti continued to study Kirk. Again he was struck with how much he liked this man. Surprised at himself, he was glad that the ordeal in the streets had not broken Kirk. He still exuded that calm confidence that irritated Khlat so much. Konti wondered if he would face the mindsifter with the same confidence. And not for the first time, he wished he knew what Kirk's secret was. He had proved several times in the past two weeks that he could endure anything, and he seemed to do it without effort.

An aide came to notify Konti that it was time.

Kirk's impression of the room they entered was that of spaciousness, but there were several hundred people in it. A very hostile silence greeted their entrance. Konti strode to the middle of the room, faced the dais and spoke.

"I, Konti, bring before you this day James T. Kirk, lately of the Federation. Upon his capture, Kirk claimed the right to be my personal prisoner. Therefore, he stands before you today as my personal property."

An angry muttering followed this announcement.

"I understand your objection, but it is the law. Just because we did not expect him to know this law does not give us the right to refuse his claim. Therefore, I will now confirm his status by performing the third branding ceremony here, with all of you as witnesses. Further, he has chosen no restraints."

He turned to Kirk and removed the leash from his collar. Khlat untied his wrists. Kirk prayed for Konti's heart to be at peace. Konti sighed and picked up the branding iron. Suddenly someone yelled.

"Take the tape off his mouth! You said _no_ restraints!"

Konti looked at Kirk, who nodded fractionally.

"Not a sound," Konti said as he removed the tape.

_I promise,_ Kirk thought, _even if I have to bite my tongue._ But he didn't. The drug had worn off sufficiently that silence was relatively easy. The branding was accomplished without incident, including the subsequent knife wound. Instructing Kirk to rise, Konti turned again to the crowd.

"I go from here to report to my superiors. I'm certain they will have opinions concerning the future of Kirk. But know this: anyone who injures my property will answer to me."

Konti strode from the room, followed by Kirk and Khlat, Kirk still completely unrestrained. Khlat managed a couple of whiplashes before they reached the door. Kirk ignored him. He was more aware of the unreleased anger in the room. He prayed for them briefly.

They left the building and climbed aboard a flitter. Kirk assumed they were headed for military headquarters. To his surprise, they went instead to Konti's home.

"Give him a bath, Khlat. I can't take him to Korn in his present condition."

The bath was interesting. Kirk tried to hide his amusement with Khlat's petty torments. And he was grateful to be clean. Khlat's soul was twisted; Kirk prayed for his healing. After the bath, Khlat delighted in inflicting new welts on his fresh skin. He was visibly irritated that Kirk ignored it.

Konti waited for him in the bedroom, which contained a single comfortable chair. Khlat delivered Kirk, and Konti asked him to wait outside.

"Sir, do you want him tied?"

Konti laughed. "I should take my own advice, but no, I'll risk being clawed."

"Sir?"

"I told Koh that if he treated the tiger like a kitten, he was likely to get clawed."

"Yes, sir." Khlat departed, clearly puzzled.

Konti sat in the chair and regarded Kirk, who stood at ease in front of him.

"What is it about you that makes me feel safe? I should have all my defenses on alert and I don't. Why?"

Kirk did not reply.

"When I ask you a question, I expect an answer."

"I'm sorry. I did not realize you had given permission to speak. I do not know why, but you are quite correct: I will not harm you."

"This is probably my only opportunity for a private conversation. I have watched you these past two weeks, and I have an urgent question. What is your secret?"

"I have no secrets. I've told you that several times."

"The mindsifter will take care of that, but that's not what I meant. You are anything but a coward. Your self-discipline is to be envied. Yet today you endured hours of the worst kind of ridicule without complaint. You endure everything without fear or anger. You either ignore it or adjust to it; you never fight it. And it's not that you can't; you choose not to. Nothing we have done to you cracks that inner calm. What is your source? How do you do what you do?"

Knowing this was his one and only chance to share, Kirk chose his words carefully, asking the Lord for wisdom.

"My source is the Lord Jesus Christ, who is God of the universe. It is because God dwells within me that I can do these things. You have the power to kill me, but you can exercise that power only if God permits it. I'm not saying He won't, but when I die, it will be His choice, even if you think it is yours. Likewise, all the things you have done to me, He has allowed you to do.

"The lack of fear and anger is a result of who I believe God is. He is not a tyrant who delights in inflicting pain for its own sake. Nor is he an impersonal God who doesn't care what happens to me. He cares deeply, and his design is for good, not evil. It does not matter whether I understand how the good will be achieved. Nor does the level of unpleasantness change my conviction that He is in control, and He will accomplish his purpose in my life."

"So your belief in your God gives you the power to endure?" It seemed he was genuinely trying to understand, but a note of scoffing crept in on the word 'God'.

"He does increase my ability to endure, but the inner calm comes from my belief in who He is."

"And you think that a God who puts you through two weeks of agony will protect you from my blade?" His voice dripped with disbelief.

"No, that's not what I said. I have no doubt that I will die by your hand. But it will not happen until God is ready for it to happen. Because I trust Him completely, I have no reason to fear you."

"And what about the mindsifter?"

"I do not fear it either. If you lose the argument you mentioned, the mindsifter will take my mind, after which you will undoubtedly kill me. If what we expect does not happen, it will be because God isn't ready for me to die yet."

"You expect it, yet you do not fear it?"

"What is there about it to fear? The pain? Even if it's worse than anything I've experienced before, it's still not a reason to fear it. The loss? Once the mind is gone, I will not know what I've lost. The process? Well, that shouldn't go on too long, and anyway, it might be interesting."

"Interesting? That's not what I would call it. Unfortunately, you will be in no position afterwards to tell me how 'interesting' it was. Anyway, we're out of time. Khlat! Come in here. Tie his hands and attach the leash. Then get us the flitter. And call Korn's office; inform them we are on our way."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Konti did lose the argument, but he pushed it farther than Kirk thought was probably wise. Kirk wondered at that, but had no opportunity to inquire. From Korn's office, they took him directly to a basement room which contained the mindsifter. His impression was that there were several others in the room besides the technicians. Probably security guards for trouble-makers. Kirk thought he heard Koh's voice also, as he was being strapped down.

When they had him thoroughly immobilized, they shaved his head in half a dozen places. To these shaved areas they attached electric leads. They also put a strap on his forehead that ran from one temple to the other. They attached all the wires to a metal frame which they fitted onto his head. They then proceeded to screw the frame into his head in four places. That was painful, but no more so than the head device he'd been wearing for the previous two weeks. As they turned the machine on, Kirk prayed.

_Into Your hands, Lord. Thank you for what Spock did, so I don't have to fear this._

Konti watched in silence. Kirk's face remained calm and peaceful, his body relaxed. The technicians thought there was something wrong with the machine. But after checking and rechecking and finding nothing wrong, they proceeded anyway. Somewhat reassured by the data output, they relaxed.

Koh muttered something about incompetence, and the fact that it was taking thirty minutes instead of ten.

Khlat snorted, "Kirk doesn't care!"

Konti continued to watch in silence. He was afraid the memory would haunt him for the rest of his life, but he could not force himself to look away. The man was compelling without saying a word. The inner calm remained intact right up to the end. Konti watched the unseeing eyes close, and the jaw go slack. Kirk was unconscious.

Shortly thereafter, they turned off the machine and told him he was welcome to the carcass. He waited impatiently while they removed the metal frame, wires, and restraining straps. Konti picked Kirk up and slung his body over his shoulder. He quickly carried him to the flitter with Koh and Khlat following.

xxxx

At home, Konti carried Kirk inside and put him on the bed. Dismissing Khlat, he turned bleakly to Koh.

"Well, you were right. I let him get under my skin and I regret it. But I will kill him cleanly, and I will do it before he wakes up. I owe him that much. Any idea how long?"

"With most, I'd say an hour or two, and some of them never wake up. With Kirk, who knows. You might not have five minutes."

Konti drew his blade and approached the bed. He raised the knife, prepared to plunge it quickly but accurately, to end the life of James T. Kirk. Suddenly he was startled by a voice.

"You might want to reconsider that course of action."

"Koh, did you say what I think you said?"

"I didn't say anything."

"I must be imagining things then."

Konti raised the knife, determined to follow through with his unpleasant chore.

"Kill me if you must, but I'm not sure the Lord will let you."

Shocked, Konti stared at Kirk's face. The knife slipped from nerveless fingers and landed harmlessly on Kirk's belly. Konti made no effort to retrieve it, and Kirk just left it there.

"Koh, he - he's talking! Are you hearing what I'm hearing? It's not possible! No one survives the mindsifter with their mind intact. Have you ever heard of such a thing?"

Konti sat down heavily.

"No I haven't," Koh replied. "It's impossible, unless there's something wrong with the machine." He pulled out his scanner, took readings, and frowned at the results.

"As far as this scanner can tell, there's absolutely nothing wrong with him. But you'd think if there was something wrong with the machine, they'd be screaming for us to bring him back."

Kirk spoke. "There is another possibility, and that's that the machine worked just fine, but the Lord has restored my mind." He picked up the knife, smoothly got to his feet, and presented the knife to Konti, hilt first. Konti was still in a daze, and sheathed the knife without really being aware of what he was doing.

"'The Lord' as in, your God?"

"My memory of the experience leads me to believe the machine was working."

"Describe what you felt," Koh demanded.

"It was a different kind of pain than what I've felt these last two weeks. There's no physical component to it, yet it seems to fill your entire being. I was conscious and aware much longer than I expected to be. The machine takes your most recent memories first. The unsettling part about it is being aware of what is happening to you, while no longer being able to remember why.

"The effects are cumulative, so it becomes more and more intolerable as the machine cuts deeper. I lost consciousness somewhere around age four or five, I think. Just as well that I didn't have to try and deal with it using an age two or three mind."

"I have trouble believing a four-year-old mind could deal with it," Koh scoffed.

"You were calm and relaxed right up to the end. I watched you," Konti admitted.

Kirk smiled. "That was the Lord's doing. Before we even got there, I asked Him to show you His peace. Left to myself, I'm sure I would have been screaming and climbing the walls."

"They expected you to, and thought the machine was broken when you didn't. But if the machine isn't broken, then they got their data, and will assume you are now dead. So what do I do with you?" Konti rose and stepped to the window.

"I can think of several possibilities. You could kill me, as you were about to do. You could lock me up in whatever passes for a dungeon around here. You could give me to Koh to experiment on." He flashed Koh a grin. "You could put me to work. You must have something I could do.

"But consider this. What will happen when Korn finds out I'm alive? Or any of that crowd from the Assembly? It can't be kept a secret very long. It would probably be best to call Korn now and tell him, rather than wait for him to find out."

Konti turned to face Kirk. "Best for me undoubtedly, but for you? What do you think he'll do about it?"

"Well, I happen to know he didn't get any useful information out of the mindsifter. So if he finds out I'm alive, it would be logical for him to try again."

"Yet you're suggesting I call and tell him? Why? You can't be wanting to go through that again." Konti strode into the main room as if wanting to get some distance.

At Koh's gesture, Kirk followed Konti, with Koh trailing him. "I'd be lying if I said I was thrilled about the idea. But neither am I terrified, any more than I was the first time. Nothing's changed, except that I know what to expect."

Konti faced him belligerently. "You expect your God to save you a second time?"

"Maybe. I expect Him to do what is best. I do not necessarily expect to know what that is in advance. Permission to ask you a question?"

"Granted." Konti folded his arms across his chest.

"You were going to kill me before I woke up. Was that for your benefit or mine?"

"For yours. No one should have to live without a mind."

"I would like you to allow me to wake up before you kill me. I want you to see that the peace of the Lord is not dependent on my mind. After you've looked into my eyes and observed my emotional condition, you can go ahead and kill me. I won't know what you're doing or why, but it doesn't matter. Will you do this?"

Konti took two steps and looked searchingly into Kirk's eyes.

"Are you still blind?"

"No. What does that have to do with it?"

"I can't tell by looking at you. You would choose to be conscious yet mindless when I kill you, just so that I can look into your eyes one more time? I don't understand what I see there now, so of what use would it be to look into mindless eyes?" Konti raised his brows in blatant disbelief.

"Is what you see now different from what you saw before?"

"No, I can't describe it, but I think it's the same."

"So even though you don't understand it, you still recognize it. That's good enough for me."

"I'm making no promises."

Kirk smiled and pressed no further.

Konti called Korn, who was first disbelieving, then shocked, then angry. He ordered a complete overhaul of the mindsifter - which would take approximately a week, after which Konti would please bring Kirk back.

"So, you have a one week reprieve. And I'm back to my first question. What am I going to do with you?" Konti was back to a belligerent stance, but it appeared to be a genuine question.

"What would you like to do? Killing's out for the moment anyway. That leaves the dungeon, which would be boring but safe. Or Koh's experiments, which would be anything but boring. Or put me to work. Do you have other slaves? Have you got any jobs no one wants to do? Or here's a novel idea: I could be your personal slave, waiting on you, providing for every comfort and desire."

"I've never had a personal slave." Konti cracked his knuckles and rocked back on his heels.

Kirk laughed. "Well, I've never been one, so we're even. But seriously, we could try it, and if it doesn't work, there's always the dungeon."

"Why are you always so cheerful? I have trouble envisioning the great and mighty James T. Kirk as a groveling slave."

Kirk dropped to his knees. "But if I could, that would make you even greater, as the master over the mighty Kirk. Please, let me try." The grin on his face made it a joke.

"Why do you want to make me greater? And you and I both know the only one who has mastery over you is you."

Kirk's grin disappeared. He wanted Konti to take this as a serious request. "We don't have to tell anyone, and if I'm successful, they won't know. In fact, you won't be able to tell either."

"No, I don't want you to hide from me. One of the things I like about you is your straight-forward honesty. If this ceases to be a game to you, I want to know it."

Koh cleared his throat.

"You object, Koh?" Konti's voice held mockery.

"You're digging the hole deeper."

"How much more can I regret it?" Konti absently rubbed his thumb across his fingertips.

"A lot."

"Let's just say I'm looking for healing from old wounds, and I'm willing to put up with a new one in the process."

"It's your funeral. I'll be around to pick up the pieces."

"You always have been, Koh, and I'm grateful."

xxxx

Kirk and Konti played the game all week long. Kirk learned how to bathe Konti, give him a massage, shave him and fix his hair. He learned how to care for his clothing, fix and serve his meals, and clean his home. Kirk learned fast, never needed instruction more than once. He genuinely tried to please, and was a diligent worker. He actively practiced a servant's demeanor, altering his posture and mannerisms, keeping his eyes downcast, and never speaking unless in reply to a question.

The acid test each day was the afternoon outing. Konti actively sought ways to humiliate Kirk. Gathering a crowd, he spoke insult after insult, belittling Kirk's manhood, his courage, his intelligence, his parentage, his morals, his Federation, and anything else he could think of. He illustrated each point by insisting that Kirk do the most ridiculous things. Some of it was funny, some truly difficult, some merely disgusting. All of it was designed to make Kirk look foolish.

The crowd loved it and laughed uproariously. Kirk tried hard to keep a straight face, and was glad he had practiced the downcast face. If anyone had seen the look in his eyes, it would have been a dead giveaway. And to laugh aloud would have ruined the entire show. Kirk wondered how professional clowns managed it.

xxxx

The first full day was drawing to a close. Kirk had bathed Konti and given him a thorough massage. Suddenly Konti sat up on the bed.

"Sit down." Kirk sat on the floor.

"Look at me." Kirk raised his eyes as far as Konti's feet, which were cross-legged on the bed.

"I want to see into your eyes." Kirk brought his gaze up to look into Konti's eyes.

"Shed the slave demeanor and talk to me."

Kirk suppressed a smile and asked mildly, "What would you like to know?"

"Tell me what you felt today. Your performance was superb. I am truly impressed."

"I am glad my work pleases you."

"Well it does, but that's not what I meant. And stop talking like a slave. I want to know what you really think." Konti was genuinely curious.

"I truly am glad. Also grateful that you trust me enough to let me do this." Wanting to be completely honest, Kirk took a moment to think. "As to how I felt: joyful, content, curious. I am tired now, but it's a good tired. I like to work."

"What about this afternoon?"

"That was hysterically funny. It was all I could do to avoid laughing out loud."

"You thought it was funny?!"

"Sure. Didn't you? The crowd certainly did."

"You were supposed to be highly offended, exerting all your willpower to maintain the slave demeanor and force yourself to meekly do whatever I told you to. No self-respecting Klingon would have put up with it."

"The whole idea was to prove that I'm not a self-respecting Klingon, but a cowardly slave unwilling to defend his honor."

"You think it funny to be thought a coward?"

"No, but it doesn't bother me either. The only part about it that bothered me was the insults to the Federation. And I just chalked that up to ignorance."

"Why doesn't it bother you?"

"I have no need to defend my reputation. God knows whether I am a coward. My only concern is what you think of Him, and He is well-able to defend His reputation."

"I still don't understand why it's funny."

"Imagine you're one of the crowd of watchers. I've just been told to stand on my head in the mud. It's slippery underfoot, so it takes me several tries to manage it, by which time, I'm pretty well covered with mud. But I've kept it out of my face. Then the master purposely knocks me over, so that I land face-down in the mud." Kirk half-pantomimed the scene without getting up.

"You could have avoided it."

Kirk grinned. "Yes, but that wouldn't have been nearly as funny."

Konti just stared at Kirk. "You did it on purpose, to make them laugh at you?! I don't understand you."

"You're not thinking like one of the crowd. If you can see what they saw, then you will understand why it is funny."

But Konti couldn't. "Why do you want to be laughed at?"

"I like laughter. It's good for the soul. And I'm just as willing to laugh at me as anything else, possibly more so. I don't have to worry about offending anyone."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

They repeated the show in different parts of the city for the next several days. Konti took to checking Kirk's eyes repeatedly throughout the day, even during the afternoon shows. Each evening they talked. Konti tried to understand what made Kirk tick. Kirk tried to explain it to him. Neither were very successful.

The fifth afternoon was different. Konti took Kirk to his social club. With no advance instruction, the only clue Kirk had was that Konti left the leash at home. Kirk followed Konti into a lavishly appointed building, and knew at once that the slapstick comedy of the streets did not fit in this setting.

Konti gave him no verbal instruction at all. An occasional hand gesture was all Kirk had to go on. The rest was guesswork. No one else there had a personal slave, so he could not simply copy what others did. Weapons were checked at the door, along with wraps. Several onlookers gasped in astonishment and apprehension when Konti gave Kirk his weapons. Konti ignored them, so Kirk did too.

It soon became apparent that Kirk's presence gave Konti significant prestige. He attended to Konti's comfort, gave him a backrub, served him a meal, and cleaned up afterwards. After the meal, Konti gestured Kirk to the floor at his feet, and put his feet on Kirk's back as a foot rest. He spent over an hour in this position, while Konti talked about him.

Most of it was fiction. Konti was the center of attention, and they all wanted to know how he had conquered Kirk. He wove a fascinating tale of Kirk's breaking point. It contained so much detail, it was quite believable. Kirk was impressed. When Konti got to a description of Kirk's present reaction to the whip, he was interrupted. Someone wanted a demonstration. Someone else volunteered to produce a whip for the purpose. Before Konti could formulate a reasonable excuse for not doing this, the whip was placed in his hand.

Kirk visibly shuddered. This he had not planned on. He doubted if Konti had either. Just how good an actor was he anyway? He prayed that it would be believable. Konti thrust the whip under his nose, and he shrank away from it. Kirk knew this audience would not be satisfied with anything less than a full-blown demonstration.

As he surveyed the crowd, Konti reluctantly came to the same conclusion. _I made this trap myself_, he thought, _but it _was_ Kirk's idea._ Fully expecting Kirk to prove him a liar, Konti nevertheless decided he might as well play it to the full.

"There are twenty of you. You may each apply one lash."

"No!" Kirk screamed, then changed his tone to begging. "No. Please no. You promised. I've done everything you said. Please don't. You promised no more. Please don't let them."

Kirk was virtually sobbing, prostrate at Konti's feet. Konti was visibly disgusted, while privately absolutely astounded. He kicked Kirk in the shoulder, and sent him sprawling.

"I lied. So shut up, stand up, and pretend you're still a man."

The crowd's laughter held no real humor. They were all disgusted. Amid Kirk's sobbing and protesting, they hauled him to his feet, draped him over the back of a chair, and held his arms. He wiggled, kicked, screamed, cried, and begged through the first ten lashes. Konti watched in stoic silence. But enough was enough.

"If you don't shut up, I'll give you another twenty myself!"

So Kirk lapsed into silence, but still managed to convey fear and dread through his body language. When they were all finished, he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

Konti turned to the crowd. "I trust this sufficiently demonstrates my point. He'll be completely useless for hours. Good day, gentlemen."

He kicked Kirk, who stumbled to his feet and preceded Konti out the door. Silence prevailed in the flitter all the way home. With Khlat in the pilot's seat, neither felt free to discuss what had happened. At home, Konti turned to face Kirk in the middle of the main room.

"Look at me."

Kirk's gaze was steady.

"Khlat, be so good as to fetch the whip."

Kirk didn't quite openly grin, but his eyes were full of amusement. Khlat returned.

"Do me a favor, and add a few marks to his back."

"With pleasure, sir."

Khlat applied the whip vigorously half a dozen times. Kirk did not even twitch.

"That's enough, thank you. Dismissed. I won't need you until tomorrow at 0900."

"Yes, sir." Khlat's disappointment and resentment of Kirk were obvious.

Alone in Konti's room, Kirk faced him and waited for instructions. Konti sat in the chair and regarded Kirk in silence. A long silence.

Finally Konti spoke. "Sit down. Look at me." Kirk did. "Talk to me now. Supper can wait."

"What would you like to talk about? Last night we were discussing the belief in one God versus many gods."

"That can wait, too." Konti stared at Kirk. "I think you're teasing me!"

Kirk grinned openly. "Yes, I am. I know perfectly well that you want to discuss this afternoon's outing. You seem surprised. Did you think I couldn't, or wouldn't?"

"Well, wouldn't, certainly. It never occurred to me to wonder whether you could. You were absolutely amazing. I would never have believed it if I hadn't seen it. I was so disgusted and repulsed by your behavior that by the time it was over, I didn't want to bring you home. If you'd kept it up in the flitter, I'd have been tempted to throw you out.

"When we got here, I sent Khlat for the whip partly to reassure myself of reality, though I could see it in your eyes, and partly to replace that disgusting memory with something I could admire. You do know the biggest reason I like you is your ability to tolerate any level of torment without complaint?"

"How do you know which is the real me?"

"Because of what I see in your eyes, and the fact that you're calmly sitting here talking to me, ignoring the agony in your back. Everything I've seen these last weeks tells me this is normal and what I saw this afternoon was not normal. What I do not understand is why you did it."

"When you told the tale of how you conquered me, did you know they would ask for a demonstration?"

"No, that was a complete surprise."

"I thought so. What would have happened to you if I had proved you a liar?"

"They would have turned the whip on me. After a thorough thrashing, they would have expelled me from the club. I would be permanently disgraced. Which is not to say that no one lies, but to be caught at it is unforgivable."

"That is why I did it. To preserve and enhance your reputation is of prime importance to me. That it is at the expense of my own is of no consequence."

"Why?"

"Because the Lord Jesus Christ loves you."

"That's no answer!"

"Nevertheless, it's the truth."

Konti sat pondering for several minutes.

"Could you, and would you, do it again?"

"Yes. When?"

"I have a dinner party planned for tomorrow evening. Normally Khlat would serve. I can tell them you are still useless. It's a small group. Koh will be here, and Khlat, and two of those who were at the club today, and one other who hasn't seen you. It will not surprise me if they ask for a repeat of today's performance."

"I don't mind doing it again. Apparently it was sufficiently believable. However I do have a couple of concerns. Can you inform Koh and Khlat in advance, and if not, can they conceal their reaction? Also, how long will it be before someone makes a comparison between my reaction to the whip and the brand on my forehead? Were any of the twenty among those at the Assembly?"

"Yes, they were all there. And you're right, the question will come up. But your performance was so believable, they will doubt what they saw at the Assembly."

"Branding day is the day after tomorrow. Does this one have to be in public too? I don't mind messing it up, but I got the impression you wouldn't be pleased to have to do it over twice."

Abruptly, Konti stood up. "No! Don't you dare pull the coward act during branding! You absolutely must not do that!" He took a couple of steps and towered over Kirk.

Kirk ignored the physical threat. "Well, I won't then. But the only other solution I see is to create an environment where the whip is more emotionally devastating than the branding iron. Otherwise, it just doesn't make sense."

Konti took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair, and returned to his seat. "This branding doesn't have to be public, although it's customary to have one or two witnesses."

"If one of your dinner guests asks to witness it, would you refuse him?"

"No. They are politically important people. I cannot afford to offend them."

"Then we better come up with something that's believable."

They talked another two hours, invited Koh to supper, and talked some more. By bedtime they had what they hoped was a workable plan. Konti would have skipped the usual bedtime routine, because it was late, but Kirk said he would sleep better with the bath and massage.

"You're getting me thoroughly spoiled."

Kirk laughed.

"But tell me, what do you do after I go to sleep at night?"

"I get myself something to eat. I could not continue to function day after day without anything. I pray - that is, I talk to God. Then I sleep on the floor in the corner."

"You expect to sleep tonight?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I?"

"Possibly the condition of your back, possibly dread of tomorrow night."

Kirk laughed. "It's only supposed to look as if I dread it. Konti, will you do two things for me? First, no matter what it looks or sounds like, remember that I do not fear it. Secondly, come and tell me when it's safe to quit. I will be making too much noise to hear them leave, and Khlat will be enjoying himself too much to be inclined to tell me."

Konti nodded grimly, slightly affronted by Kirk's casual unconcern. "Yes, I will."

xxxx

The next morning Kirk pointed out that they had to create marks on his skin as evidence. He also wanted to test the hook to make sure it wouldn't break.

"We need rope burns on my wrists, and my back needs to look like we've been at it for hours. But if we do it first thing this morning, hopefully no one but Koh will notice the difference between eight-hour-old wounds and eighteen-hour-old wounds. Also I'd like to spatter blood on the floor and walls, and soak the rope in it.

"Do you think between you, you and Khlat could keep up a constant application of the whip for thirty minutes? It'd be better if you had two whips. I want as many welts in thirty minutes as you'd normally see in two hours. The reason we can't take two hours is that my hands would be so swollen as to be useless. But thirty minutes should be enough to produce the rope burns with minimal swelling."

When Khlat arrived, Kirk began explaining the situation, unconsciously taking charge. Konti just let him. Khlat was furious, but he listened, intrigued in spite of himself. When Kirk asked his advice on a couple of points, Khlat was almost civil. However he was clearly surprised when Kirk accepted his judgment without question. Kirk grinned at him.

"Don't start liking me now. Your job tonight will be much easier if you can keep on hating me. Besides, I'm going to give you the desire of your heart. You get to watch me fall apart under your whip. But understand this, Khlat: what I do tonight is not mocking you. To pull this off, we need your help. Can you act as though I've done this so often, it's almost boring? A touch of gloating contempt would be fine, too.

"Just so you're not completely surprised tonight, I'm going to give you a demonstration, complete with sound effects and body language. Unless you think it will distract you from speed, because I need that lash just as fast as you can possibly manage it."

"I can handle it," Khlat replied sullenly, annoyed that Kirk dared question his competence.

"Konti, you don't have to watch this."

"I'm going to anyway."

"Two things you can do then: keep time for us, and check the volume level. I'd like to know if it can be heard from the main room. Any questions, either of you?" Silence. "Let's get started then."

Khlat's jaw dropped in astonishment at the sudden transformation into a sniveling coward. It took him all of thirty seconds to adjust. He grabbed Kirk, threw him onto his back, and put a knee at his throat while he tied Kirk's wrists. Ignoring Kirk's cries for mercy, he hauled him to the hook, hung him by the wrist rope, and raised the hook until his feet barely touched the floor.

Glancing briefly at Konti, Khlat started in with the whip. He had vetoed the idea of two whips because without a lot of practice, they would get tangled. But to do what Kirk wanted with just one whip was going to take everything he had. He ignored the sound effects and concentrated on the job.

Grimly, Konti watched Kirk wiggle, squirm, kick, and howl. He marveled at Kirk's ability to get Khlat to do what he wanted in spite of the enmity between them. It seemed to Konti that there was little correlation between the lash, Kirk's movement, and the sounds he made. Abruptly he remembered Kirk wanted a sound check.

Stepping into the main room, he discovered that even with the door shut, he could clearly hear the sound of the lash as well as Kirk's howls. But even here, he could tell it wasn't quite in sync. Shortly after he returned to the back room, Kirk changed the howl to a whimper. Konti repeated the sound check, but could not hear the whimper from the main room.

When Konti called time, Khlat dropped to the floor in exhaustion. Kirk hung motionless and silent. Konti lowered the hook until Kirk's feet were planted on the floor. Kirk lifted his hands free of the hook and held them out for Konti to untie. He glanced at Khlat who was picking himself up off the floor.

"Thank you, Khlat. I'm impressed with your stamina."

Khlat did not reply. Kirk examined his hands and wrists.

"That's what I was afraid of. The swelling's not going to be a problem, but the wrists don't look nearly bad enough. We'll have to fix that. Khlat, how exhausted are you? Maybe Konti can do this."

"What do you want?" Khlat growled.

"Grab the ends of this rope and run it back and forth over my wrist just as fast as you can, and don't stop until I tell you to."

Five minutes later Kirk's wrists were a bloody mess. They used the rope to scatter blood over the floor and walls. Finally Kirk was satisfied.

"Okay, Phase I is complete. Let's leave the rope hanging on the hook to dry. Phase II is dinner preparation. Khlat, you're a key player in this phase too. In fact the whole thing hinges on you. Konti said you could pull this off. Here's what we need.

"I want to create an atmosphere of increasing tension and anxiety. I want you to give me a series of incorrect instructions so that as I'm serving this dinner, I make mistake after mistake. Every time I do something wrong, Konti says, 'Five more' or 'Ten more' or whatever fits the magnitude of the error. By the end of the meal, I'm positively frantic, at which point I make a really colossal blunder. Konti throws a fit, doubles the total punishment, I fall apart completely, and you drag me out of the room.

"Choose your mistakes carefully. We don't want to ruin their dinner. And if we get to throwing food around, we want it to land on Koh, not one of the three important guests. It would be best if no one but you and I know that it's your fault. They may guess, but we don't want it so blatantly obvious that Konti looks like a fool for not catching on. Don't tell Konti where the mistakes will be. Don't tell me either. That way, all the responses will be genuine.

"After we get to the back room, I will make so much noise that Konti will have to come and increase the punishment again in an effort to get me to shut up. And he may have to do that more than once. The idea is to make this look so unbearably awful that they will believe I really can't stand it, in spite of the fact that I can tolerate the branding ceremony without moving a muscle.

"I expect it to go on for several hours, so pace yourself. We don't have any relief crew. Konti, can the lash be heard out there?"

"Yes it can. So can your howling, but I couldn't hear the whimpering."

"Thanks. So we can't just stand here and pretend. Also, any of the guests may come in to inspect at any time. So it's got to be the real thing. But you don't have to actually count lashes. We're not quitting until after the guests leave. Konti will give us the all clear.

"Any questions?"

"Just one. Why are you giving the orders?"

Startled, Kirk glanced at Konti, who regarded him in silence.

"A very good question. I shouldn't be. Such improper and presumptuous behavior should be punished."

Kirk reached for the whip and held it out to Khlat. Khlat slowly took it, and Kirk dropped to his hands and knees. Khlat turned to Konti, who was staring at Kirk's back.

"How many, sir?" Khlat couldn't quite keep the eagerness out of his voice.

"Ten."

Konti watched Kirk flinch at the first lash. Khlat seemed to swell with pleasure. As the second and third lashes produced the same reaction, Khlat began to strut, actively teasing and tormenting Kirk with a highly irregular rhythm. Kirk had no idea when to expect the next lash. His body became rigid with tension; his hands clawed the floor.

Lashes 7, 8, and 9 were practically on top of one another, and Kirk groaned, then shook his head, as if angry at himself. Khlat was inordinately pleased at having forced a groan from Kirk. Finishing up with a flourish, he placed the whip back on the shelf, and turned to Konti.

"Your orders, sir?"

"You will do everything Kirk said to do. But first, I'd like to discuss the menu and certain other arrangements."

They left Kirk on the floor. After the door closed behind them, Kirk slowly got to his feet. His back felt like it was on fire, his wrists only marginally better. He reflected wryly that both would be feeling considerably worse before the day was over. Meanwhile, he'd better keep moving or things would stiffen up.

Konti returned to find him doing stretching exercises.

"Don't you ever quit?"

"No, sir. I don't know how."

Kirk stopped exercising, stood quietly with lowered eyes, and waited.

"Look at me." Kirk's gaze was steady.

"Khlat is gone. He's running errands and won't be back for an hour or more. From now on, whenever we are alone, you will stop acting like a slave. I liked you better this morning."

Kirk visibly relaxed, grinning. "I forgot."

"I know. You're a natural-born leader. Khlat responds to you in spite of himself. You laugh at his hatred, goad him into doing what you want, and then reward him in the coin of his choice. You did do that on purpose, didn't you?"

"Yes. I need his cooperation tonight, and I'm quite willing to pay for it. This was just a down payment. He gets several hours tonight. And don't be in any hurry to rush your guests out of here. They need to come away with the pervading impression that it's simply unbearable."

"That reminds me: what I heard this morning didn't seem to be in sync. There was no connection between the lash and your sound effects."

"There will be tonight," Kirk promised grimly. "I'm sorry you have to listen to it, but I don't see any way to avoid it."

"I'll survive."

xxxx

The evening went pretty much as Kirk expected. Khlat had the mistakes well planned and well timed, with each occurring about five minutes apart. Konti played the irritated host very well. The tension in the room could be felt by all. Kirk got so involved with his part that at one point, he wasn't sure he could hold it together until the end of the meal. Before it was over, they were up to 95 lashes.

The last thing to serve was a hot alcoholic beverage, sort of like coffee with whiskey added. Kirk carried the pot and mugs to the table on a tray. The mugs rattled because his hands were shaking so badly. Making his hands shake was easy. Engineering a fall that would look real, but hurt no one but himself, was much more difficult. It was time for the finale, but he didn't see how Khlat could do anything given where he was sitting.

Suddenly Konti was on his feet, yelling. "He's going to drop it! Khlat, do something!"

They both converged on Kirk. Khlat managed to tip the tray out of his hands under cover of trying to rescue the pot. The scalding liquid spilled all over Konti's legs and spattered on the expensive rug. Kirk stood in horrified silence, while Konti hurled a variety of verbal abuse. Khlat did his best to clean up the mess, though the rug would never recover.

Konti reached the climax and pronounced the punishment, doubling the total number of lashes. Kirk crumpled to the floor, sobbing that he couldn't stand it. Konti had turned away, but at this outburst, he turned back.

"And not a sound out of you, or I'll triple the total."

Kirk lapsed into silence, but every ounce of body language continued to beg for mercy. Konti turned away in disgust.

"Get him out of here, Khlat. I hate to cut short your dinner, but it's going to be a long night. You'd better get started."

"Yes, sir."

Khlat threw Kirk toward the door, and kicked him until he picked himself up and stumbled out. Unable to ascertain for certain that they were alone, Kirk kept up the act and did not try to talk to Khlat. Instead he focused on his response to the lash. Dividing the evening into half-hour segments, he planned his strategy.

At first he would maintain silence. But as Khlat provided opportunities - and Kirk was sure he would - Kirk would begin making noise. By the end of the first hour, the noise would be substantial and Konti would come to silence him. He would again be silent for a time. Towards the end of the second hour, he would lose all control, kicking and screaming without regard for consequences. If Konti didn't come back to shut him up, he would gradually become exhausted. Anything after the third hour would be animal-like whimpering.

Meanwhile Konti had excused himself to change, asking Koh to pour drinks for the guests. He returned to find Koh had also cleared the table and brought out the cards. They played amiably for almost an hour, by which time the noise from the back room was becoming a serious distraction. After another fifteen minutes, Konti excused himself, but they all trailed him to the back room to watch.

Konti studied Kirk for several minutes. He had no idea whether Kirk knew they were there, but his performance was superb. Konti would never have guessed that it was not real. Just the right level of attempt to control. Visible frustration at his lack of success. And every time Khlat raised the intensity, a marked increase in hysteria. _Kirk should have been an actor_, Konti thought.

"Kirk!" Instant silence.

"I told you to be quiet. You're disturbing my guests. You're up to 300 lashes as of now. Unless you want to be here all night, I'd suggest you control yourself."

Konti led the way back to the main room, but the card game was forgotten. He spent the remainder of the evening answering questions about Kirk. Koh held his peace, only answering direct questions, and those with a version of the truth that gave nothing away. The two who'd been at the club readily believed what they saw, hanging on Konti's every word.

The third guest was very reserved, occasionally asking a pointed question, but keeping his opinions to himself. Several times he went to the back room and watched Kirk. He returned each time neither disgusted nor moved, but thoughtful. He was the one who brought up the branding. Kirk had just let loose a scream that signified a complete loss of control. Konti just shook his head.

"With this kind of response to the whip, it's difficult to imagine how he could be disciplined in the branding ceremony. I know he's done it three times already, but it won't surprise me if he falls apart tomorrow. On the other hand, it is a lot shorter, so maybe he can hold himself together long enough."

"I'd like to witness it, if you've no objections."

"Of course."

They were at it for almost four hours before Konti gave the all clear. As expected, Kirk's hands were swollen to twice their normal size. His skin was covered with welts, many of them bleeding. But his cheerful spirit was intact. Konti dismissed Khlat, then asked Kirk how he was.

"Tired." Kirk grinned. "This takes a lot more energy than just accepting it. But my question is: did they believe it?"

"The two who'd been at the club, yes - lock, stock, and barrel. Kadat? I'm not sure - maybe, and maybe not. And he wants to witness the branding tomorrow."

"I'll play it whichever way you want. What happens to you if Kadat doesn't believe us?"

"That's difficult to say. Possibly nothing. But just as likely, everything. No one seems to know his true position or level of power and influence. But come to my room. I have a story to tell you that will explain how I feel about branding."

"Are you sure? I don't want to bleed all over your rug. Which reminds me, did you plan that bit with the spilled pot, or was that all Khlat's idea? And how are your burned legs?"

"My legs are doing as well as yours, probably better. At least I'm not bleeding. I'll get a towel to protect the rug. And yes, I planned it. Khlat would have spilled it all over you. I didn't think that was fair."

"What does fair have to do with it?"

"Besides, it made a more believable excuse for my being furious."

"I'll grant you that, but I'm with Khlat. I would have spilled it all over me. I just hadn't quite figured out how to make it look accidental, when you and Khlat took it out of my hands."

They had moved to Konti's room, with Kirk sitting on the floor as usual.

"Before you tell your story, I have a question. Why don't you lock me up at night? That back room would function quite well as a prison cell. Yet you seem equally unconcerned about my escape or an attack on your person. Also, you tell me to stop acting like a slave, yet I sit naked on the floor, while you sit clothed in a chair."

"Does the lack of clothes bother you?"

"No, I've gotten used to it. I'm merely pointing out some inconsistencies."

"The dynamics of our relationship are definitely complex. Perhaps it will be clearer to you after you hear my story. When I was a child, I had a playmate. J'Keth was his name. He was Orion, but I was oblivious to race differences. We were the same age, well-matched in interests and abilities. He was my constant companion; we were the best of friends.

"I knew he was a slave. My father had several. But it didn't seem to effect us. Once a year, he was gone for a week. When he came back, the brand was fresh, but he never talked about it, and life went on as normal. Until the year we were twelve, when we came of age.

"For a slave, that meant no more anesthetic. Also the schedule of repetitions I told you about begins anew with each ownership transfer. Not all slaves are sold at age twelve, but many are. So J'Keth was facing a painful ordeal and test of his courage, as well as an uncertain future. Neither of us knew what Father planned.

"When I found out, I was horrified. I was to take possession of J'Keth by performing the branding ceremony myself. Father thought he was doing us a favor. He knew how close we were. This was his way of allowing us to stay together. We survived the branding ceremony, many of them in fact. And he is as good at it as you are. But our friendship did not survive." Konti stared at the floor pensively.

Kirk was a little confused. "Didn't you say you'd never had a personal slave?"

Konti shrugged. "So I lied," he readily admitted. "Something else I neglected to tell you about branding is the required eye contact. Slave and owner are to maintain eye contact throughout the branding. The owner establishes dominance through the power in the eyes as much as the branding itself. Also rebellion can be most easily seen at this time in the eyes of the slave. I didn't tell you because that is the part of branding that I hate the most. But you did it anyway without being told.

"I still don't understand what I see in your eyes, but I know it's very different from J'Keth's eyes. His were full of accusation, betrayal, and hatred. Over the next several years, they became hard and unreadable, but that first time, they were full of emotion. He says that was the day he grew up. For me, it was the day I lost my best friend.

"Things were never the same afterwards. He could never forget that I owned him. The system wouldn't let us forget it. At first we argued over whether he was going to act like a slave. Then he wouldn't even argue with me. It wasn't that he was afraid of me. I never exerted dominance over him. He knew it, I knew it, and Father knew it. Father took over his training because I wouldn't.

"When I entered the service at fifteen, I gave J'Keth back to Father. I have not owned a slave since, until you came along. From that first day in the transporter room, I knew you were different. You accepted the position of slave while retaining equality of person. And nothing I have done to you has changed that sense of equality between us. You put on slave-like behavior as if it's a coat; and you shed it just as easily.

"The biggest difference between you and J'Keth is the lack of anger. Even though everything you've suffered has been directly or indirectly my fault, you don't blame me. You just laugh and say, 'let's be friends anyway'. When I exert dominance over you, you freely yield, but it never erodes that sense of equality between us.

"Every time you accept the branding without hating me, it erases a little of the memory of those awful years. If you fell apart, I don't know what I'd do. Even knowing you were doing it on purpose, I don't think I could stand it. Your performance is so believable, I cannot distinguish act from reality. So, Kadat may think what he likes, and I'll risk the consequences." Konti cracked his knuckles and stared at Kirk, daring him to call him a coward.

Kirk smiled, nodded, and said nothing.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Kadat arrived early. Kirk met him at the door, took his cloak, and announced his arrival to Konti. By the time he had served liquid refreshment, Khlat was at the door. He was none too happy that Kirk was functioning as butler, a job he would normally have done, even though that fact elevated him to the position of guest. Koh arrived last, demanding an inspection of Kirk's wounds before removing his coat.

"Well there's no sign of infection yet, and by this afternoon, it won't matter. But tell me, how are we playing it this morning?"

"Straight reality, and let the chips fall. Konti refused to let me. I asked twice."

"I told him you were trouble. If Kadat reports this, there's probably nothing I can do. In fact, Khlat and I will undoubtedly also get the ax."

"I'm sorry."

"It's crazy, but I believe you really are sorry."

They entered the main room, and Kirk poured Koh a drink. No sign of shaky hands or clumsy feet. Kirk was the picture of efficiency and effectiveness, while maintaining a properly respectful demeanor. The whole thing was the exact opposite of the previous evening's performance. Kadat did not remark, but no one doubted that he observed the difference.

After a few minutes of slightly forced small talk, Konti sent Kirk for the branding iron. Without hesitation, Kirk fetched it from the other room. He dropped to his knees without waiting for the command. His eyes were full of warmth and encouragement. He hoped that Kadat could not see his eyes.

No one spoke a word during the entire ceremony. Konti did not falter, and of course, Kirk never moved. The silence continued even after Kirk put the branding iron away. Kadat looked at Kirk very thoughtfully and said nothing. Konti offered a refill on the refreshments, which Kirk served with as much ease as before. Finally Konti gave up waiting for Kadat.

"I trust you found the branding satisfactory?"

"Oh, yes, everything is perfectly in order." He paused. "There is one thing that puzzles me however. Dr. Koh, perhaps you can answer this. How is it possible for someone to be utterly fearless at one point, yet a fear-crazed coward at another?"

Koh drew a deep breath. "You are undoubtedly referring to Kirk's recent behavior. I don't have a very good answer for you. Kirk is the most unusual patient I have ever had. Nothing about him is what I'd call normal. So predicting his response to any given situation is nearly impossible."

Koh proceeded to describe Kirk's response to the total sensory deprivation. At first Kirk didn't understand where Koh was headed. He seemed to just be digging the hole deeper. Then he had it: Koh was going to try and pin the whole thing on him, leaving the three of them blameless. And it might work, but Kirk doubted it. Kadat was too sharp to miss the obvious flaws.

"So you think Kirk's behavior last night was an act, that he did it on purpose?"

"It's possible, sir. With Kirk, almost anything is possible."

"If that's true, then for whom was he performing, and why?"

"A very good question. You can ask, and maybe he'll tell you."

"I asked you. Are you telling me you don't know?" Kadat's voice rose incredulously.

"I freely admit that I do not understand Kirk, even though I studied him closely for two weeks."

Kadat straightened his already straight back. "All right, listen to me, all of you. It was clear from the beginning that last night's performance was an act, a very good one indeed. But no less so this morning. Neither is a true representation of Kirk. I will show you. Kirk, get the whip."

Kirk looked at Konti, who nodded consent. Kirk then brought the whip to Kadat.

"Stand there," Kadat pointed to a spot in the middle of the room, well away from the chairs.

"Attention!" He barked the command in Standard, and Kirk snapped to without thought. Kadat paced in a circle around Kirk. As he continued to talk, he casually flicked the whip at Kirk, leaving a new bloody welt on Kirk's skin with every flick of his hand. That his skill with the whip greatly surpassed that of Khlat became obvious when he laid welts on Kirk's cheeks - two parallel lines on each, about a half inch apart. Kirk hardly noticed, his attention was so focused on Kadat's words.

"Kirk is a military man, trained as a warrior, very self-disciplined. This whip is nothing to him, a mere child's toy. Even the branding doesn't faze him. Nothing shakes him. Watch his face now. See, not a twitch. Does he fear this? No. Now watch. I'm going to do it again, this time a little closer to the eyes. Do you see any signs of apprehension? Neither do I. Anyone who can stand rock-steady for this does not fall apart under the threat of hundreds of lashes, or the reality of hours upon hours of it.

"So last night was an act. But just as obvious is that he had help. I wasn't sure until this morning whether Koh was in on it, but now it's clear that all three of you conspired with him to produce this little play."

As Kadat talked, Kirk prayed. _Lord, this seems like an irredeemable mess. But I choose to trust you. Let no harm come to Konti because of me, Lord. _Kirk relaxed his stance, looked at Konti, and smiled encouragement. Kadat noticed immediately. Whirling around, he confronted Konti.

"What did he just say to you?!"

"Nothing, sir. He didn't say anything." Konti tried to sound puzzled.

"Don't give me that! I know it wasn't words, but he said something nonetheless."

"I said, 'Don't worry. Everything's going to be okay,'" Kirk supplied.

Kadat turned on Kirk. "How could you know that?!"

"The Lord Jesus Christ will protect Konti from harm."

"Who's he? How would he do that, and why?"

"Jesus Christ is God of all that is. He can do anything He wishes. He will protect Konti because I asked Him to."

Kadat stared, then laughed harshly. "God does what you want him to. Now that's the height of arrogance. However, more to the point is, why do you want to protect Konti?"

"Because the Lord wants me to," Kirk calmly replied, knowing he wasn't going to be understood.

"The Lord - as in God. You're talking in circles. I want some answers that make sense, and I'm not leaving until I get them! Konti, I very much doubt that Kirk's God can protect you. Conspiring with the enemy is treason. So start talking, and make it good."

Kirk reflected that Kadat must be very sure of himself, to accuse them of treason without any backup support. Four to one odds were pretty high. Khlat was clearly apprehensive. Neither Koh nor Konti appeared alarmed. That didn't mean they weren't. Konti began talking.

"I have committed no treason, nor have any of us. Kirk is not an enemy; he is my slave - to do with as I please. I have been playing this game with Kirk all week. Last night was the final exam. You see, given his behavior during the first two weeks I had him, I said he couldn't and wouldn't act like a slave. He said, 'try me'. So I have made him do every menial and disgusting task I could think of, repeatedly humiliated him in public, and given him every opportunity to escape.

"Two days ago, I took him to the club, told lots of lies about how much of a coward he was, and when they asked for a demonstration, he pretended the lies were true, and put on quite a performance. Last night was a continuation of the same performance, which I let him plan himself. He would have continued it this morning as well, but I did not allow it. The branding ceremony is not to be profaned by such falsehoods."

"The whole thing was a game? A contest between the two of you? To see if you could push him beyond his willingness to yield-" Kadat circled Kirk, studying him thoughtfully. "Not forced to yield, but freely choosing to yield. A very intriguing idea. But I doubt that it would work with the average prisoner."

Koh snorted. "Kirk's anything but average!"

"So who won this contest?"

"Kirk did, but I don't mind. It's been a very interesting week."

"Very entertaining, I'm sure." There was just a hint of sarcasm in Kadat's tone. "All of which doesn't entirely explain last night. You said Kirk planned the whole thing. Khlat, is that true?"

"Well, yes, and no, sir. I don't know whose idea it was, because they had clearly been talking about it before I arrived yesterday morning. But Kirk was giving the orders. I thought it entirely inappropriate, but Konti told me to do what he said. So I did."

"What did he tell you to do?"

"We spent some time covering his back with welts and putting the rope burns on his wrists. He wanted it to look like we'd spent hours at it the night before too. The biggest thing he wanted me to do was engineer mistakes into the serving of dinner by giving him incorrect instructions. They were to get progressively worse and finish with a colossal blunder that would leave Konti furious with him. I was supposed to do all this without making it obvious that I had it in for Kirk."

"But Konti knew you were doing it?"

"They both knew. But Kirk told me not to tell either of them where the mistakes were. He wanted it to look real."

Kadat snorted and turned to interrogate Koh. "How much did you know about all this?" Whether he believed any of it wasn't yet clear.

"I knew the basic idea, but none of the details. We discussed it the night before."

"We, as in, you and Konti?"

"No, we, as in, Konti, Kirk, and I. Kirk's biggest concern was how to make it look bad enough to be believable. May I ask a question, sir?"

"Yes."

"How did you know it was an act?"

"It was a superb performance, I'll grant you. Had I seen any flaws, I would have called a halt to it on the spot. Certain reports I had concerning his behavior on board your ship led me to believe that what I was seeing was not real. However, I was not absolutely certain until this morning when I sent Kirk for the whip."

Kirk kicked himself mentally. If only he'd been consistent, Kadat would not have known. He'd been out-maneuvered, and believed Kadat knew more than he did. But none of this self-recrimination showed on his face. Kadat turned to Konti.

"So, how do I get Kirk to talk to me?"

"I can only tell you what I do. I sit down, I make eye contact, and I ask questions. I have no idea whether he will answer you. I can order him to do so, but I suspect you might get more honest truth if he is free to choose."

"Very well. Kirk, sit down."

Kirk sat on the floor. Kadat sat down directly in front of him, on the floor within arm's reach. Kirk resisted the urge to back up. Distance would not protect him from Kadat. Only the Lord could, and he need not fear Kadat.

"Look at me."

Kirk raised his eyes to meet Kadat's, deliberately opening his soul to Kadat's view. For several minutes, Kadat said nothing, but stared into Kirk's eyes, non-verbally declaring his dominance over Kirk. Refusing to challenge, Kirk withstood the onslaught, never breaking eye contact, nor closing the window into his soul. Still not backing off, Kadat spoke.

"Explain yourself." It was a demand, not a request.

"Concerning what, specifically?" Kirk kept his tone mild.

"For starters, why are you here? What do you hope to accomplish? Then, what is it with this slave routine? And how does pretending to be a coward fit in? Lastly, why aren't you afraid of me?"

"I am here because I was taken prisoner by Konti's battlecruiser."

"An event which you yourself engineered."

"I did? Why would I do that?"

"That's what I'm asking you." Kadat was not amused at Kirk's flippant denial.

"I'm sorry. I don't know. I do remember being glad that we weren't going to start a war, but I don't know why I thought that."

Kadat continued to stare at Kirk, looking for deceit. Kirk continued to hold himself open, not counting the cost.

"As to what I hope to accomplish, I wish to be a friend to Konti. A friend is more concerned for the other than for himself. A friend seeks to know the other, and to be known by the other. A friend gives of himself without thought of return. It seemed to me more possible to accomplish this as a slave than a Federation prisoner."

"Why do you wish to be a friend of Konti? What do you expect to get from him?"

"I expect to give, not get. As to why, because the Lord Jesus Christ wants me to."

"Don't get off on that God stuff. Stick to reality."

"You prefer a more believable answer, however untrue? How about this then: I hope desperately that Konti will like me enough to risk his career and his life to save me from the mindsifter, and in gratitude, I will spend the rest of my life groveling at his feet? Or this: the coward act is to convince you that I can in fact be controlled. After all, it's obviously dangerous to keep a slave who fears nothing?"

Kirk's eyes held a mixture of mockery and amusement. Kadat did not reply. He had in fact been thinking along those lines, but Kirk made it seem ludicrous.

"You see, I cannot give you truthful answers that do not include God. He is an integral part of my reality. Konti told you the truth about last night. It was part of the game. A good slave seeks to preserve the reputation of his master. I suspect Konti thinks it got a little out of hand, but it certainly wasn't boring.

"What else did you ask me? Oh yes, why don't I fear you? The truth includes God, but I'll try to explain it without Him. This afternoon, I have an appointment with the mindsifter, after which I expect to die. With that kind of a future, I doubt you could make the situation worse."

"I could take you away to a place where no one would ever find you. There you would experience days, weeks, even months, of non-stop agony. The mindsifter would seem a welcome release."

"Charming. Ask Koh what my probable reaction to that would be."

"Or I could kill you right here and now."

"Korn would not be pleased. What is the purpose of these threats?"

"Or," Kadat paused, "I could save you from the mindsifter altogether."

"By killing me now. No thanks."

"I could return you to the Federation."

Kirk's internal alarm system jumped to Red Alert. _Lead me on Your path, Lord. Let me not stray into temptation._

"What happens to Konti if you do that?"

"He would undoubtedly be blamed for your escape."

"No thanks then. I'll stay here."

"Why?"

"No friend would do such a thing. I will not abandon Konti to save my own skin."

"Supposing I could fix it with Korn?"

"Why would you? What do you get out of this?" Kirk's voice dripped with skepticism.

"If you were my slave, I could protect you from Korn and his mindsifter."

Kirk said nothing.

"You don't believe I could? Or that I would?"

Kirk still said nothing.

"You're much too valuable to waste on the mindsifter."

Still no response.

"What's so special about Konti that you would go to such lengths to protect his reputation, that you would give up your life to preserve his?"

No answer.

"Answer me! I'm much more powerful than Konti is. I want you to be my slave. I could make your life very comfortable."

"Why are you trying to negotiate with a slave regarding a decision to be made by his master?"

"Because you are no ordinary slave. Given what I know about you, if you don't come willingly, the deal's off."

"No deal then. I'm staying here," Kirk declared adamantly.

"Why?"

"My goals have nothing to do with power or comfort."

"What is your goal then?"

"To do the will of the Lord Jesus Christ."

"Not that again! Give me a straight answer."

Knowing he would regret it, Kirk said it anyway. "I don't trust you."

Kadat's response was swift and violent. He slapped Kirk in the face, sending him sprawling. They both got to their feet. Kirk stood quietly waiting. Kadat slapped him again, knocking him to the floor. This sequence was repeated half a dozen times, as Kadat vented his anger.

"Not interested in power, are you? Getting mighty uncomfortable, I should think. See, Konti does nothing. He can't protect you, or won't, which is the same thing."

Kirk stood after each fall, not defending himself, but also refusing to stay down.

"Last chance to change your mind."

Kirk simply shook his head. Kadat launched a vicious set of blows that sent Kirk to the floor for the last time. Not quite unconscious, he heard Kadat address Konti.

"It's a good thing he dies today, or I'd have to report you and your little games."

And he stormed out of the house. As soon as he was gone, Koh began fussing over Kirk, just like-. Kirk didn't know, but it seemed very familiar. Setting aside that mental agony, Kirk struggled to his feet over Koh's protests. He stood in front of Konti with lowered eyes.

"Look at me." Kirk did.

Konti saw no trace of condemnation, anger, disappointment, or contempt. Instead he saw a warmth, a reaching out, that inexplicable something for which he had no word. Kirk's concern was for Konti, not for himself. Konti sighed.

"You know, he probably could have delivered what he promised. And he makes a very bad enemy."

"I'm sorry. You might beat him to it by reporting everything before we go see the mindsifter. Meanwhile, will you want your mid-day meal as usual?"

"Yes, but go get cleaned up first."

"As you wish. Will you have guests for the meal?"

"No, just me."

He turned to give Khlat directions. Koh followed Kirk into the bathroom.

"You've got three cracked ribs, and two of those cuts on your face ought to have stitches."

Kirk turned to Koh. "Don't make me laugh. What do you think would be the reaction if I walked in this afternoon with a taped chest and stitches on my face? I like you, Koh, and I appreciate the thought, but it won't matter after this afternoon anyway. I'll manage to survive that long."

By the time Kirk was serving Konti's meal, he appeared more or less normal.

"Well, Kirk, I took your advice. Korn will see me at 1330, after which we'll head down to the mindsifter."

He gazed at Kirk thoughtfully.

"You're still not afraid of it?"

Kirk smiled and shook his head.

"I'm sorry I'm not powerful enough to protect you from it."

"Don't be. The Lord knew that when He picked you for me to belong to."

"Do you expect Him to protect you?"

"I'll not deny I'd be delighted if the Lord's path for me did not include another encounter with the mindsifter, but no, I don't expect to be rescued from it."

"Then why didn't you accept Kadat's offer?" Konti was genuinely puzzled.

"I knew he was lying from the moment he suggested sending me back to the Federation. The only question was how to get rid of him without starting a brawl."

"You managed to get pretty beat up."

"Yes, well, I'm expendable."

"If you don't expect to be rescued, then this is our last conversation."

"Possibly. I do not know whether the Lord will heal me afterwards, but do you remember what I asked of you last week?"

"To let you wake up before I kill you?"

"Yes, and don't be in any hurry to put me out of my misery. Take a good long look in my eyes. Take several looks. And remember this: God loves you; He's in absolute control of my life; and He sent me here to tell you that He wants to know you."

Konti cracked his knuckles before answering. "Kirk, you are a most unusual man. It has been my privilege to know you these past weeks. If your God is anything like you, He must be most unusual too. But how can I know Him if you are not here?!" Konti's voice rose in frustration bordering on anger.

Kirk ignored the emotion and replied quietly but earnestly. "There are ways. If you truly seek Him, He will make himself known to you. He will find a way."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Konti refused to take the leash, even though Kirk thought it unwise. He left Khlat at home as well, and drove the flitter himself. Side by side, they walked into Headquarters. But they got no farther than the door. The guard was adamant.

"I know who you are. I even know who he is, but he's not coming in here unrestrained."

"He's my slave. I take full responsibility."

"That's fine, but you're not bringing him in here."

"I have an appointment with Korn. He does not like to be kept waiting. And Kirk _is_ coming with me."

"Not without restraints."

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither willing to concede. Kirk stood quietly, not really caring who won the argument. Abruptly Konti turned to Kirk.

"Go wait in the flitter. I'll be back."

Konti glared at the guard, as if daring him to object. So Kirk left and walked calmly back to the flitter, expecting any moment to be challenged, at the very least. But no one raised the alarm. The flitter's computer recognized him and permitted his entrance.

Kirk gazed at the controls. He had some sense that he knew how to fly one of these. In a crisis, he would try, and maybe the skill would be there, even though his mind had no memory of it. But today he had no intentions of going anywhere. So he relaxed in the seat, content to wait, glad to rest his injured ribs.

About five minutes later, the guard knocked on the flitter window.

"I have instructions that you are to come in now."

The guard turned and went back into the building without waiting for Kirk. After securing the flitter, Kirk reentered the building, and spoke to the guard.

"Who gave you these instructions?"

"Korn. Listen carefully. I will only say this once." And he gave detailed directions to Korn's office.

Kirk thanked him and strode down the corridor as if he had every right to be there. No one stopped him. In due course, he arrived at Korn's office, where he was ushered directly in to see him.

Konti stood up when he entered, gave him a brief grin, and nodded at where Kirk was to stand. Sitting down again, he resumed his conversation with Korn.

"I'm impressed, Konti, but I still wouldn't have staked my life on what Kirk would do. Now, what did you want to tell me about?"

Konti told Korn what he and Kirk had been doing the past week, including the visit to the club, the dinner party, and Kadat's visit that morning. He did not explain Kirk's behavior, or his own either, but merely reported it.

"Fascinating. I'm glad you told me, but I'm afraid it won't save him from the mindsifter."

"I didn't expect it to. Nor does he expect it." Konti nodded in Kirk's direction without looking at him.

"You expect me to believe he walked in here voluntarily, knowing he's headed to the mindsifter!?"

"Yes. If you gave him directions, he'd get himself down there, but I want to go with him."

"Konti, remember J'Keth?"

"How could I forget? But this is different, I promise you. Kirk remains steadfast through absolutely anything. Come and see, if you doubt my word."

"All right, I will."

As they departed the office, Kirk had the sudden impression that Korn was Konti's father. But this was no time to inquire. Kirk followed Konti to the basement room that housed the mindsifter. Korn brought up the rear. As they approached, Kirk heard a prolonged scream from within.

They entered the room and stood near the door. Kirk saw what he had been unable to see when he had been here last. The room was large, the equipment enormous. Several guards noticed him immediately, and moved to correct the lack of restraints, but Korn waved them away. The center of attention was the current victim strapped to the chair in the middle of the room.

Her piercing screams filled the room. Her rigid body strained against the straps. Kirk's response was nearly instantaneous, and without advance thought.

"Lord, speak peace to her soul. Take away the fear. Welcome her into Your presence this day."

Immediately she stopped screaming and her body relaxed. The technicians thought she was unconscious even though it was a little too soon. The medic on duty assured them she was not. Panic-stricken, they began checking and rechecking the machine. Then they noticed Kirk. One said he had jinxed the machine; another said he had jinxed the girl; a third said it was all ridiculous, the data didn't lie. Korn put a stop to the chatter and told them to get on with it. He had heard Kirk's prayer. So had Konti.

"She's just an Orion slave girl. Why did you have to do that, Kirk? Now they think the machine's busted again."

"I'm just a human. Konti, I'll scream my head off if you want, so you'll know the machine is working, but I will not deprive her of the peace of the Lord."

Konti stared at Kirk. "You would choose to scream?"

Korn interrupted, "As if he could choose not to!"

"Your choice, Konti. Doesn't matter to me. Either way is fine."

"No. I want it to be real, not an act."

"Oh, it's real enough. Last night was a game. This is a miracle. Don't forget, I know what this feels like. Without the miraculous intervention of God, I will be just as out of control as she was. The question is: do you want to see another miracle, or do you want the subjective proof that the machine is working?"

"If you can do for yourself what you just did for her, then do it."

"Okay, I will ask Him. Just remember, the power does not come from me. It's the power of God working in me."

They were finished with the girl and ready for Kirk. The guards approached, but Korn waved them away. Because of his ribs, Kirk was just as happy not to be man-handled. Calmly walking to the chair, he climbed into it, took a deep breath, and relaxed his body. Then he began to pray.

Korn divided his attention between Kirk and Konti. Kirk seemed utterly unconcerned. Konti seemed almost to be holding his breath during all the preparation. When they finally cranked up the machine and Kirk remained relaxed and silent, Konti took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"Konti, you have really fallen for Kirk. Didn't you learn anything from J'Keth?!"

"Father, I know I've let Kirk get to me, and I'll regret having to kill him. You know, I never really got over J'Keth. So maybe you know how much it means to me, to look into Kirk's eyes while I'm branding him, and know that he doesn't hate me. I will never forget him," Konti declared fervently.

"Konti, this may bother you, but I've got to keep him here til he wakes up. I must know that the machine did its job. After that, you can take him home and kill him in private if you wish."

"Of course, that's the obvious solution. I don't mind."

At that moment, Koh walked in, pushing a stretcher in front of him.

"Sorry I'm late. The guard didn't want me to bring the stretcher in here. Kirk's got three cracked ribs, and if you carry him out of here the way you did last week, I'm afraid you'll puncture a lung. So what's happening?"

"Kirk's doing the same thing he did last week. Look."

They lapsed into silence, all watching Kirk. Some five minutes later, to Konti's surprise, they turned off the machine and started to remove the wires.

"Koh, am I imagining it, or is Kirk still conscious? It looks like his eyes are open."

Koh pulled out his med-scanner, and approached Kirk. Konti and Korn followed. Koh conferred with the medic on duty and they agreed that yes, Kirk was conscious. In fact, he had never lost consciousness. Konti couldn't really see into Kirk's eyes, because the angle was wrong. Kirk whimpered as they transferred him from the chair to the stretcher. Konti turned to Korn.

"Well, are you satisfied? Can I take him out of here now?"

Korn was thoughtful. "From what you've told me, Kirk is capable of faking all the evidence I see."

Konti didn't think he was, but admitted reluctantly that yes, he could.

"In that case, I'm going to have to ask you to keep him alive for seven days. I'll stop in to see him once a day, but I'm not telling you what time, and it won't be the same every day. And Koh, no drugs. And we'll just see if he's faking."

Kirk was silent all the way home. They rolled the stretcher into the back room.

"Now what do we do?" Konti complained.

"Well, as I see it, you've got a couple of options. I can put in an IV and a catheter. You can keep him strapped down. Minimum maintenance. You can basically ignore him." Koh was busily checking Kirk's condition, which he'd already done twice.

Konti ignored Koh's fussing, knowing it was normal. "What's the other option?"

"No straps. No medical equipment. You close and lock the door, and clean up the mess next week."

"I don't like either of those options. Haven't you got any better ideas?"

"The only other idea I have would entail a great deal of work, and I have no idea what success you might have. You see, there's nothing wrong with Kirk's brain. And apart from the cracked ribs and various skin abrasions, his body's in working order too. He simply doesn't remember anything, including how to walk, talk, eat, bathe - everything." Koh paused, almost unwilling to voice the idea. "You could try to teach him." He quickly turned back to the stretcher, looking for something else to check.

Konti simply nodded. "How do I start?"

Koh stared for a moment, his hands briefly stilled. "If you're serious, I'll get you a tape on child development. And if you don't mind, I'd like to get the whole thing on camera for future study."

"Sure. Go ahead."

Koh departed and Konti moved to Kirk's side to get his first long look into Kirk's eyes. He stared for several long minutes. Kirk stared back.

"Well, Kirk, you were right. That same inexplicable something for which I have no word is still in your eyes. I don't see how it could be, since you don't even know who I am. Doubtless you would call it another miracle. So was staying conscious all the way through it. Father was not pleased. He doesn't like the fact that I've let you get to me either. Anyway, watching you endure this mental state for seven days is punishment enough. And he does have a point. You're too good an actor for your own good.

"You get your wish about not being in a hurry, though I doubt that you had seven days in mind. But I can just hear you now. You'd laugh and say, 'Sure. I don't mind.' And the thing is, you really don't object. You never object to anything we do to you. I wish I knew your secret. I know you've tried to tell me, but it doesn't make any sense."

Konti paced between the stretcher and the door, not at all comfortable with his own involvement in this affair.

"Now that it's over, I realize just how much I've enjoyed this past week. Is it treason to like a human as much as I like you? No, I don't think so, as long as I don't let it interfere with my duty. And I won't. I learned that lesson a long time ago. Koh thinks I'm a fool to let myself like you. So does Father. But you know what's funny? Koh likes you too, and it's not just medical interest, though there's that aspect of it too. You'll be the subject of several research papers, I'm guessing." He absently rubbed his thumb along his fingertips.

"Koh didn't say how long he'd be gone. I have no idea what to do with you. Teach you to eat, walk, talk - where do I begin?! But I promise you this, Kirk: I will not abandon you to suffer alone for seven days. No drugs, Father said. That means, you have to endure every long hour of it. I've heard that babies sleep a lot. Maybe you can sleep through most of it. Knowing you though, I doubt it.

"I wonder if your personality is gone too. That which makes you who you are - if you've lost all memory of the experiences that shaped you, is your character a blank slate, just like your mind?"

Konti rambled on for over an hour. Kirk's attention was riveted on Konti's face, but there was no sign that he understood a word of it. But neither did he move, make a sound, or lose interest. Finally Konti gave up waiting for Koh.

He removed the restraining straps and pulled Kirk into a sitting position. Kirk yelped in pain. Konti let go. Kirk fell back onto the stretcher.

At this moment, Koh walked in. "Sorry that took so long. I was hoping you'd wait til I got here. I want the whole thing on camera. What have I missed?"

"I just pulled him up, but I forgot about the ribs. I'm afraid I've hurt him."

Kirk was again silent, watching intently. Koh pulled out his med-scanner and reported.

"No, the ribs are no worse. See this big bruise on his side? Kadat kicked him. The three cracked ribs are here, here, and here." He touched Kirk in each spot, but got no reaction. "That's odd. Didn't I hear him yell when you picked him up?"

"Yes. That's why I dropped him."

"Interesting. Anyway, if you handle him on the left side only, it should be safe enough. Mind you, it'll still hurt every time he moves, but you won't make it worse."

Konti had been looking into Kirk's eyes.

"Look at his eyes. I think he's trying to tell me something. It seems like he's pleading. Do you think he wants me to make it stop hurting? Korn said no drugs. That includes pain-killers, doesn't it?"

"Was Kirk asking for pain-killers this morning?" Koh asked sarcastically.

"Of course not."

"Does he look or sound like he's in pain?"

Konti shook his head. "Well, he's not hiding it quite as well as usual, but no, not really."

"Then I don't think he's asking for pain-killers. Think like Kirk does. What just happened? What does he want you to do now?"

"What do you mean? Kirk can't think. How can he have decided what he wants me to do?"

"He can't think in words, because he doesn't have language. But he can think, and he most definitely has a functioning decider. So think like Kirk. You're going to have to get good at it." Koh was finished rechecking Kirk's condition and had moved on to setting up his camera.

So Konti did, as he stared into Kirk's pleading eyes.

"I think he wants me to try again. He's taken this one incident, the only data he has, and concluded that the price of mobility is no sign of pain. He hopes I will give him a second chance. And I will, but I have no idea how to do this."

"Neither does he, and there aren't any books for this situation. I'll write one after the two of you figure it out."

Konti reached for Kirk and saw the pleading look be replaced by eagerness. Satisfied that he had guessed right, Konti pulled Kirk into a sitting position. Konti tried to hold him up with one hand and swing his legs over the side with the other. He lost hold of Kirk, who fell head over heels on the far side of the stretcher, and landed in a heap on the floor. Konti winced in sympathy, but no sound came from Kirk. Konti picked him up and laid him back on the stretcher.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Konti looked into Kirk's eyes and answered his own question. "Yes, you do. Okay, here we go again."

After half an hour of continuous effort, replete with numerous falls, Konti finally had Kirk in an upright position. But Kirk could not stand unaided, much less take a step. After Konti dragged him around the room in a circle, he returned Kirk to the stretcher. Kirk seemed satisfied and content to rest, so Konti and Koh moved to the main room for a meal. Koh showed Konti the material on child development he'd brought.

"This is of limited usefulness, because Kirk is not a child. He doesn't need any more sleep than you or I. His muscles and digestive system are already fully developed. So's his personality. Probably the most helpful thing in this material is the stages of development, the sequence. A child learns to walk before he talks. Doesn't mean you shouldn't talk to him. But don't expect him to try to talk before he can walk.

"Your first big job is potty training. But don't expect to get much helpful advice from here. I expect him to grasp the concept immediately. Your problem will be communicating the need and getting him to the commode. Then there's feeding him. He certainly doesn't need an all-liquid diet. But I don't expect him to be able to feed himself."

Suddenly they heard a heavy thud from the back room. Rushing in, they found Kirk face down on the floor. Konti picked him up and laid him back on the stretcher.

"If he's going to fall out, you'd better secure him with the straps."

"No." Konti was vehement. "No restraints."

"Then I'd better lower the stretcher, so he won't have so far to fall the next time."

And he did, but it was still over a foot off the floor.

"You think there will be a next time? He's had enough falls for one day."

"Don't tell me you think this was accidental? He probably considers it a major accomplishment. And it is. The only way he could have fallen out is to turn himself over. An infant can't do that until he's several months old. So yes, he will try it again."

And he did. Twenty minutes later they heard him fall again. Konti put him back in bed.

"You'll be up all night if you keep putting him back in bed. I wish I could stay to watch, but I have to go. See you tomorrow."

"Good night, Koh, and thanks."

Konti watched Kirk do it again. He rocked from side to side until he had sufficient momentum to carry him all the way over. Konti didn't want to contemplate what Kirk's ribs must feel like. He decided to watch to see what Kirk would do if left on the floor.

For several moments, Kirk did nothing. Hearing no sound of approaching footsteps, he set about working toward his next goal, that of rolling over from front to back. He spent the better part of an hour rolling back and forth across the room, perfecting his technique. In due course, he ended up at Konti's feet. He stooped to talk to Kirk.

"Yes, I've been watching you. You're getting very good at it. But I don't understand what drives you. Those ribs have to be hurting badly, yet you neither stop nor make a sound. You don't have to learn to walk in one night. The job will still be here tomorrow.

"It just occurs to me that this is the time of day you normally eat. I wonder if you think I'm not going to feed you. No, you wouldn't have any basis for that conclusion, at least not yet. A baby cries when it's hungry; you suffer in silence. Why? So many questions that you can't answer. I'll be back in a few minutes with your supper."

Konti propped Kirk up against the wall in the corner of the room so he wouldn't fall over. Then he tried to feed him bread, soup, pudding, and water. Kirk hadn't the first idea how to go about eating. Fortunately swallowing was more or less automatic. Konti had no better idea how to spoon-feed than Kirk did, so together they managed to make quite a mess. Konti cleaned up as best he could with water and a towel.

"Bath in the morning. Now it's time for bed."

He picked Kirk up and deposited him on the stretcher.

"Now stay there. I'm going to bed, and you need some sleep."

He illustrated his words with gestures and hoped Kirk got the idea. He left and turned out the light. After spending about an hour going through the material Koh had brought, Konti went to bed. He had not heard any tell-tale thuds from the back room so he hoped Kirk was sleeping.

Konti rose early and went to check on Kirk. The smell assailed him as soon as he opened the door. He had forgotten to take Kirk to the bathroom the night before. He turned on the light and discovered Kirk was not on the bed. He was on the floor in the far corner, curled up in a fetal position. In another corner he had deposited what should have gone in the commode.

Konti picked Kirk up and carried him to the bathroom. After giving him a thorough bath, he propped Kirk in a corner of the bathroom and went to clean up the mess.

At this moment Korn walked in.

"He's in the bathroom, but if you need evidence, I'm cleaning up the results of last night."

"Yes, I see. I smell too. Why did you feed him?"

"Because I thought he was hungry. I would feed a dog too, if I had one."

"Hmm- touchy this morning. Didn't sleep well?"

"Actually I slept very well - too well. I didn't hear this at all."

It took Konti three days to conquer the potty problem. They spent most of the first day in the bathroom. Konti poured as much water into Kirk as he could manage. Every hour they practiced using the commode, but Konti had to hold Kirk up. He could neither sit nor stand.

At bedtime, he gave Kirk another meal. In the morning, he found the same results as before. Konti was discouraged, but what he saw in Kirk's eyes was fear.

"What are you afraid of? Me? Why?"

Konti followed the same routine as the day before, except he didn't give Kirk any water, and only took him to the bathroom every two hours. They spent the bulk of the day learning to sit unassisted. After Konti figured out how to explain by illustration what muscles were and what they did, learning to sit became relatively easy.

Kirk extrapolated to a more purposeful use of arms and legs as well. At bedtime, Konti let him roll around on the floor for two hours. By the end of that time, Kirk was well on the way towards crawling. And the look of fear had disappeared from his eyes. Konti took him to the bathroom one more time and put him to bed. It had been 24 hours since Kirk had had anything to eat or drink. Konti hoped for a clean room in the morning.

The next morning, Konti walked into a room that didn't smell. Further, Kirk was still on the bed. Instead of being curled up in a ball, he was stretched out on his back, more relaxed than Konti had seen him for days. Thinking him still asleep, Konti approached quietly. Kirk heard him and opened his eyes. The fear had been replaced by a deep satisfaction. Konti was pleased.

He gave Kirk a meal, followed by successful use of the commode. That afternoon Kirk learned to crawl, and by bedtime was pulling himself into a standing position.

Konti declared potty training was complete. Kirk could get himself to and from the bathroom and use the facilities without assistance. Therefore he could sleep where he liked. Kirk chose the same corner of floor in Konti's room that he had chosen when he first arrived. The next day Konti told Koh they were done with the stretcher, so Koh removed it. Kirk never returned to the back room.

The fourth day Kirk walked holding onto the wall. The fifth day he took his first steps unassisted. Konti began to think about the end of the week. He was reasonably sure Korn was convinced that this was no act, but of course, he wouldn't say so. But what then? He had intended to kill Kirk as soon as Korn would let him. But now? Kirk's mind was definitely no longer a blank slate.

But if he didn't kill him, what would he do with him? He would be called back to active duty as soon as they were done with the Kirk question. A starship was no place for Kirk in his present condition, even though that condition changed daily.

Konti marveled at the rate Kirk learned. He pursued his chosen objective with single-minded focus, driving himself relentlessly until he accomplished his goal. Once achieved, he might practice that skill for an hour, but then move on to a new objective. He worked himself all day and often late into the night. Konti continued to talk to him, because Koh said the more he heard, the faster he would learn the language. But for most of it, Kirk was basically teaching himself, with little help from Konti.

The sixth day Kirk decided he would feed himself, or not eat. It took him two hours of slow, painstaking labor, but in the end he managed it. That afternoon, Konti taught Kirk to kneel. He dreaded the branding next morning, but he was stuck with it. Korn had made it quite clear he would make no decision until tomorrow afternoon.

That evening Konti tried to explain it to Kirk. He brought out the branding iron and explained what it was. He turned it on and let Kirk feel the heat it generated. He placed Kirk's fingers on the brand itself. He thought Kirk got the connection, but he couldn't be sure. Koh stopped in briefly later that night, and Konti shared his fears about the morning.

"It's just not fair! Kirk's mental development is that of a young child. And this is the worst one of the whole sequence. You know that! More slaves lose it on this day than any other."

The monthly series was four times as long as the weekly branding was. And the first one followed right on the heels of the weeklies, when the wound was still very fresh. Of course all of Kirk's had been longer than strictly necessary, but that had been before he'd lost his mind.

"Would you rather have him branded a child for the next twelve years?"

"No, of course not."

"Well, he's either an adult or a child. If he's an adult, he has to face it as an adult. Unless you decide to kill him first."

"I can't. Korn won't let me. And he'll be here to watch the branding. Koh, I'd like it if you came too."

"I'd be glad to." He paused. "You wanna tell me what's really bothering you about the whole thing?"

Konti sighed and looked over at Kirk, who was sitting on the floor playing with his hands. Which is to say, he was practicing fine motor coordination. Konti guessed that Kirk might be able to pick up the branding case and carry it, but he was not going to risk it. That was not strictly necessary.

"Koh, I hardly know myself. I guess it's fear that he will hate me. I can hardly hope for any other response. He can't possibly understand. And when he hates me, I will despise myself, just like with J'Keth. But that will not make it any easier to kill him. You would think, with all I've had to do for him this week, that I'd be glad to be rid of him. But it's not so.

"Koh, I can't think of him as an enemy. Nor a slave either, for that matter. I don't know what I think of him. I only know I don't want to kill him." Konti raised bleak eyes to get Koh's reaction to his weakness.

"What did _he_ say about it?"

"He hasn't said anything at all. I can't tell how much he understands."

"No, I mean before this week. He knew you would kill him. Did he talk about it?"

"Yes. He was completely unconcerned. Said it wouldn't matter that he wouldn't understand it. But that was then. Now I look into his eyes, and I see innocent trust. It's these eyes I do not want to betray."

"Konti, Kirk is not a child. Does he cry in pain, hunger, or fear? No. Does he wait for you to direct his learning? No. That's an adult personality he's got, trapped inside a child's abilities. And he's correcting the deficiency just as fast as he can force himself to work at it. I wouldn't be at all surprised if his response to the branding is the same as it was the first time. He almost laughed at you, as I recall."

"I'm sure he won't be laughing. He hasn't cracked a smile all week. In fact the only place I see any emotional reaction is in the eyes. And there's precious little of that."

Koh snorted. "I can tell you why. He's copying you. Have I ever told you that you have the most dead-pan face of anyone I know? Kirk doesn't express emotion because you don't. You're the only example he has."

"Oh. I can't teach him what I can't do. But I miss it. His sense of humor was one of the best parts about last week."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Morning came too soon, though Konti hadn't slept much. Kirk, he was reasonably sure, had slept soundly. After Kirk had completed his usual morning routine, Konti told him the meal would have to wait until later. Kirk seemed to understand. But Konti was astonished when Kirk turned, carefully walked to the cabinet where the branding case was stored, picked it up, turned and carefully began carrying it to Konti. Unconsciously, he held his breath to see if Kirk would drop it. He didn't. He carefully placed it in Konti's outstretched hands, only letting go when he was sure Konti had it.

"It's not time yet. Do you want to try doing that in front of an audience, or was once enough?"

Kirk took the case back and returned it to the cabinet, just as carefully. Then he practiced getting into and out of the kneeling position for half an hour. Finally, he sat on the floor in front of the cabinet and just waited, his eyes on Konti.

"Not long. Koh and Korn should be arriving shortly. So you did understand what I was trying to tell you last night. But you can't possibly realize how badly this will hurt. The weak lose consciousness. Even the strong waver. Not one in a hundred can hold still for the required time period. I've seen you accept incredible levels of pain without complaint. If your mind were whole, I would believe you could do this too. But now - the price of failure is two more repetitions, while being held. Kirk, I don't want to do this."

Kirk spoke a single word, the first and only word since losing his mind.

"Do."

Kirk held his quietly intense gaze on Konti, who just stared.

"You're trying to tell me that you _want_ me to do this?!"

At this moment, their dialog was interrupted by the arrival of Korn, followed by Koh. As soon as they were seated, Kirk stood and brought the branding case to Konti, without being told to do so. Likewise, he got himself into the proper kneeling position. But the way he moved made it clear to those watching that this was hard work for him still. In position finally, he turned his face up to Konti and calmly waited.

Konti looked into those eyes and saw that same indescribable something deepen and intensify. But the look of innocent trust was there too, and Konti fully expected to shatter it in the next few minutes. As he hesitated, Kirk gave him a look of encouragement, as if to say, 'You can do this, and it will be okay.'

Konti sighed, opened the branding case, flipped the switch, and asked Koh to time it for him. Four minutes seemed to stretch into nearly forever. Kirk's gaze never faltered. His eyes filled with pain, but he neither moved nor made a sound. Konti watched carefully, expecting to see betrayal, anger, and hatred. Not a trace. Instead the trust was still intact.

Without words, Kirk was saying, 'I choose to trust you. The agony of this moment shall not be remembered against you.'

Konti had no idea how Kirk could do that, but he understood that Kirk _was_ doing it. And maintaining complete control of himself besides. With a mind that only had one week of data storage. Absolutely incredible. If speech had been required, Konti would have been speechless. Fortunately, it wasn't.

Finally, Koh called time. Konti returned the branding iron to its case, examined the wound carefully, and added the knife cut, which Kirk had clearly earned. He had forgotten to say anything to Kirk about this in advance. But Kirk remained still for this as well, apparently not at all alarmed. _He really does trust me_, Konti thought.

With the ceremony over, Korn stood to take his leave.

"Very impressive. Bring him to my office this afternoon. Koh, you come too."

With no further words, Korn departed. Konti tried to explain to Koh what he had seen in Kirk's eyes, but Koh didn't believe him. 'Wishful thinking,' he called it.

Promptly at 1300, they arrived at Korn's office. Kirk had accepted assistance to walk more quickly down the corridor, or they would have been late. All three were ushered into Korn's office.

"Sit down, gentlemen." They did.

"I am willing to concede that it is most improbable that what I have seen this week is an act. However, I want corroborating evidence. I've ordered a complete physical. Dr. Kidra will be here shortly. Koh, you're too personally involved with the prisoner. I want an independent opinion."

Koh drew himself erect, his eyes sparkling with anger. "With all due respect, sir, my personal interest in this patient is due to his unique characteristics. I am the resident expert on human physiology. Dr. Kidra is very competent in her field, but she knows nothing about humans. Request permission to accompany the patient and assist Dr. Kidra as needed."

"Granted. Here she is now."

Koh, Kirk and Kidra departed. Konti waited in Korn's outer office, because Koh and Kidra both said it would be better if he didn't come with them. Konti paced and fidgeted for over an hour. Finally they returned, Kirk apparently no worse for wear. Kidra presented her report and departed. Then the three of them were ushered back into Korn's office.

"All right, it's official. Kirk passed the physical. Kidra agrees his mind is damaged by the mindsifter. She had no idea that this much function could be restored, and was very surprised it was done in just one week. She says he understands much of what is said, but will probably never speak. He walks, but will never run. So I want to know what you think. Koh?" Korn turned to him with a belligerent stare.

"Her opinions about what he will be able to do are based on preconceived notions, not extrapolation from known facts. In my opinion, given sufficient opportunity, there is almost nothing he will be unable to relearn."

"Konti, you've lived with him and watched his every move. What's your opinion?"

"The things he accomplished this week were because he pushed himself, not because I forced him. Indeed, for much of it, I hardly even helped. He decided what he was going to do, and relentlessly pursued it til he got there. Then he immediately chose a new goal.

"We haven't actively worked on language. I've talked to him is all. Yet this morning, he spoke a word that was clearly understandable, was the key word in what he was trying to communicate, and he was using that word to give me an urgent message. There is no doubt in my mind that he will learn to speak fluently.

"Koh has told me that we are dealing with an adult personality, and I've seen it proved over and over again. All of Kirk's force of character is there. It's currently trapped in a child's skill level, but not for long."

Korn stood and addressed Kirk.

"Kirk, come here."

Kirk stepped forward to stand in front of Korn.

"Look at me." Kirk did. "So, you understand basic commands. I wonder how much more you understand. Do you know who I am?"

Kirk looked briefly at Konti, then back to Korn.

"That's right; I'm Konti's boss. He does what I tell him to, just like you obey Konti. I should tell him to kill you. You are a problem as long as you are alive. Now, is the lack of reaction because you don't understand what I just said, because you don't believe me, or because you don't care?"

As Korn looked into Kirk's eyes for some sign that he understood the question, he saw a sudden change, as if a light switch had been flipped on.

Kirk was overwhelmed by the sudden flood of returning memories. He kept his gaze focused on Korn, letting him watch it happen. After several long seconds, Korn broke the silence.

"I think I need to speak with Kirk alone. Leave us now."

Konti and Koh rose and left the office without a word. In the outer office, Koh whispered to Konti.

"You don't think he's going to kill him, do you?"

"Father? No. His idea of good discipline is to make me do it. And I will, even though I hate it. Just like this morning."

Korn gestured Kirk to sit down.

"So, talk to me."

"What would you like for me to say?" Kirk replied as he sat.

"Then I'm not imagining it; your mind is back?"

"Yes. I am intrigued at the Lord's timing. He chose to restore my memory when you would see it happen."

"Most interesting. Unfortunately, this makes for more complications. Killing you was an acceptable solution if your mind was gone, but most unsatisfactory otherwise. I'm sure you know the mindsifter report was completely useless.

"I have on my desk a design for a completely new mindsifter, much more sophisticated. Expensive too. If I understand it correctly, this one dissects your mind one layer at a time. And we can dig as deep as necessary in each layer. So those thirty years of data you've managed to block out will be revealed, even if it takes hours. The designer claims he can have a prototype ready for testing in one month. Realistically, it will take at least two months.

"Between now and then, I want Koh to find your breaking point. And since I've needled him about personal involvement, he will be especially careful in his treatment of you. But Konti is even more personally involved. Give me one good reason why I should return you to Konti."

Kirk touched his forehead. "By your laws, I belong to Konti, to do with as he pleases."

"There is that, isn't there?"

"Korn, I give you my word that no harm will come to your son because of me."

"Did he tell you I'm his father? He never tells anyone. And how can you keep him from harm? Can you make him hate you?" It appeared to be a genuine question, not just a sarcastic retort.

"Yes, I could. But I would have to be convinced that it was in his best interests."

"How?"

"Simple. Betray his confidence, try to kill him, run away, and when caught, display such cowardice that he is repulsed and disgusted. If he doesn't immediately kill me, then keep up the cowardice until he is no longer convinced it's an act. At this point he would hate himself for having liked me to begin with, and would then transfer that hate to me as the source of his pain. Then he would kill me. But as I said, I would have to be very sure it was best for him."

Korn leaned forward. "Do it. I say it is best for him."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because hate and killing do not remove the pain. There is a better way."

"Kirk, I do not understand you. What are you doing here?"

"I will tell you, but I don't expect you to understand or believe it. I have no military or political goals. The Federation did not send me here. I have come to show you the God I serve. I hope that as you see Him at work in my life, that you will wish to know Him as I do."

Korn stared at him for a long moment, then sat back and shook his head. "You're right. I don't believe it. Well, I will give you back to Konti because I must. He will just have to live with the consequences."

He stepped to the door, told Konti he could take Kirk home, but he wanted a word with Koh. Kirk and Konti departed without waiting for Koh. Neither spoke on the way home, but upon arrival, Konti faced Kirk in the main room.

"What happened in Korn's office?"

"The Lord restored my mind while Korn was watching. Do you want a verbatim account of everything we said?"

"No. A summary will do."

So Kirk summarized quite succinctly. When he was finished, Konti collapsed into a chair.

"It's true then. I thought so as soon as I saw you walk, but I was afraid to believe it. And Korn knows, but he didn't give me any orders."

"It would solve his problem if you would just kill me, but he doesn't think you will." He grinned. "Neither do I."

"A better way? Why didn't you hate me this morning? How could you not?!"

"Because the Spirit of Christ which is in me is functioning, regardless of the condition of my mind. Konti, I will never hate you. At the beginning, I knew that hating you would destroy me. Now, I know you too well to hate you." Kirk smiled warmly.

"But this morning, you didn't. Yet what I saw in your eyes was trust. And the agony didn't shake it. You still trusted me. I don't understand." Konti was frustrated but not really belligerent.

"Two things may help. While my mind had no memory of the experience, my body did. I knew we had done this before. It was not some strange, foreign, scary thing. I was not frightened. More importantly, I knew what you felt about it. From the first of the week, I was sensitized to your emotions, because I had no language. I trusted you because your emotions contained no element of attack."

"That reminds me: what were you afraid of that second morning?" Konti asked.

"Rejection. I did not know that you would be willing to deal with the mess. Those first two nights were awful - much worse than the branding. Please, next time, no food or water until I'm mobile enough to use the facilities."

"But Kirk-"

"I can survive for three days or more without anything. And much longer than that without food. Ask Koh."

"Ask me what?" Koh walked in unannounced.

"Kirk wants me to starve him next time, so he can avoid dealing with the anxiety associated with messing the back room."

"Tell him how long I can survive without food and water," Kirk asked Koh.

"The standard answer is three days without water, three weeks without food. I expect you can last a good bit longer than that. But as to how long you could function well enough to teach yourself to walk, I don't know. But isn't the question academic at this point?"

"Didn't Korn tell you they're going to build a new mindsifter?" Konti asked. "We've got a month or two. What did Korn want you for?"

"Kirk knows. Korn told me he didn't get the slightest flicker of a reaction when he told him. No surprise." Koh sat down and started absently fiddling with his tricorder.

"Oh, right. Korn wants you to find Kirk's breaking point. How does he figure you're going to do that?"

"That's my problem as far as he's concerned. Told me I had two months; gave me the impression that failure would cost me my career, if not my life. Also told me you'd be getting orders to cooperate with all my demands. I expect you'll be notified in the morning."

"Well of course, I'll cooperate, but that won't do you any good. How can he expect you to achieve the impossible?!" Konti rose and paced toward the window.

"Oh, he doesn't. He just wants me to think it'll cost me. That way he gets top-level effort, and he can always deny he threatened me. He does it to everybody. Only reason you don't get standard treatment is because of who you are."

Konti turned and rocked back on his heels. "Right. I'd know he didn't mean it. But trust me, he has other ways just as effective. Anyway, what do you plan to do?"

Koh turned to Kirk, who'd been grinning through this entire conversation.

"I thought maybe I'd ask Kirk for advice."

At this, Kirk burst into laughter. "Are you seriously asking me to _tell_ you how to find my breaking point?"

"Of course you shouldn't answer. But I decided to ask anyway, just to see what you would say."

Kirk turned serious. "Do you want a considered opinion, or just what comes to mind off the top of my head?"

"Either or both."

"Kirk, you're not-!" Konti looked out the window to hide his reaction.

"Relax, Konti. You yourself admit he's got a problem. Let's just see what we can do to help. First of all, tell me what kind of a breaking point we're trying to find."

"Well obviously, they want data."

"That's not going to happen, because it isn't there to be had. You know that, and they know that. So what are they really after here?"

"Frankly they don't believe you that it's not there. And they will keep trying until they succeed, or you die, whichever happens first."

"All right. But would this be a safe assumption: that if I die under your hand without talking, they would see that as failure on your part?" Kirk asked mildly.

"Yes, of course." Koh had laid the tricorder aside and was twiddling his stylus.

"So whatever we come up with has to be non-lethal, but preferably feel bad enough that I would wish it were."

"Kirk!" The appalled shock made another appearance, not quite as successfully hidden.

"Konti, what's the big deal? Don't tell me you had no idea what Koh was doing to me on that ship of yours?"

"That was different." Irritated, Konti crossed his arms and stared at Kirk.

"Why? And how?" Kirk wasn't worried about challenging Konti's anger.

"I don't know. It just was."

"I'm sorry, Konti. Maybe Koh and I had better discuss this elsewhere."

"No." Konti took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down. "You're staying right here, and I'll try to stop interrupting."

Kirk turned back to Koh. "The problem is you tried everything you knew to do; at least I presume you did; I told you to. So we have to find something new and different. Or maybe a new combination. And we have more time. Maybe a new psychological twist."

Kirk was really talking to himself, pacing as he thought. After a few minutes of silent pacing, he turned back to Koh.

"What about this, and hear the whole thing before you give an opinion. Twelve hours out of every twenty-four, I spend with you. Of the twelve I spend with Konti, at least six have to be a public display of slave behavior - city streets, his club, the State Assembly, could even be here, if he has guests. The other six would be any activity of Konti's choice, as long as it doesn't include any food or drink for me, any sleep, or any privacy.

"Thus you would control all food and drink input, either by mouth or IV, your choice, as well as sleep, if any. You would obviously plan your experiments in advance, but I would never know whether I was facing hours of non-stop agony, or the exact opposite. Obviously more agony than not, but enough pleasantness to keep me guessing. Maybe even wearing those wires all the time, so I wouldn't know from minute to minute what to expect.

"And here's a new twist that'll give your superiors gray hairs. You set up your lab somewhere in this city that I can get to by walking. Every night, I leave here and walk to your lab. No guard, no escort. Not even Konti comes with me. Absolutely nothing to prevent me from running away. No cameras, no monitoring devices, nothing. I walk into your lab and put on those wires of my own free will, night after night after night.

"Something else I just thought of. If you're running an experiment that needs more than twelve hours, you make arrangements with Konti, but you don't tell me. So I never know how long I'm going to be in there - hours, days, or weeks. All I know is when you let me out, Konti will be waiting at the door to demand six hours of public obedience, followed by six hours of other activities, followed by a voluntary return to your lab for another unknown period of time.

"If this sounds good to you, I want to make a deal with you. And I'll tell you up front that you can say 'no' without jeopardizing the rest of it. I will cooperate with you on all the experiments by giving you whatever feedback you ask for - as honest and transparent as I can be - no talking drugs needed. In exchange for that cooperation, you will come here one evening a week to engage in an activity of Konti's choosing. This would be part of the six hours of private activity. And I should warn you: Konti's favorite activity is talking, and some of it gets pretty serious."

Kirk sat down and looked at Koh with a grin. "Well, what do you think?"

"I like it. I think it's brilliant. I don't suppose you have any good ideas for experiments."

"You want me to do _all_ your work for you?!" He grinned. "Seriously, it's better if I don't know. Use your creative imagination. Tell you what, you think about it, and if you're really stumped, we can talk about it after I get in there."

"All right. I'll write this up, and if I get approval, I'll let you know when I'm ready. Should be a day or two anyway. The only thing likely to cause trouble is the unescorted walk, but that's the very thing that makes it brilliant. And I'll never know whether you're going to show up or not."

"Right. If I don't, you'll know I've just reached the breaking point. Either that, or somebody mugged me, and I'm bleeding to death in some alley."

"I'll keep that possibility in mind. And about your deal, I certainly accept. Your cooperation is worth a lot more than one evening a week. I consider that a real bargain."

The plan was approved. The very next day, they were called into Korn's office, and given instructions that matched Kirk's words almost exactly. Only the three of them knew it was Kirk's plan, not Koh's ideas. If they had told Korn, he would have refused the plan, and they would have been back to square one. Kirk managed to keep a straight face, but didn't manage to look appalled. As they were leaving, Korn commented on it.

"Doesn't anything faze you, Kirk?"

"Sir, you did tell me yesterday to expect this. Dr. Koh is very creative. I'm sure I will enjoy working with him."

Koh very nearly cracked up at this comment. Fortunately, Korn misinterpreted the reason for Koh's snort. Once safely in the flitter, all three of them laughed. It was a rare moment, and Kirk was grateful. When he had met them, neither would have considered laughing with him about anything.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

On the _Enterprise_, nothing more was said about Kirk. No one forgot, but it was easier not to talk about it. The wound began to heal. McCoy finally gave up expecting Spock to inform him that Jim was dead. Life with Captain Young began to seem normal. Not the same, but normal.

The night before Young's eye surgery, Spock went to Young's quarters, at his request. He had been there once or twice in the previous weeks, but for the most part, he had avoided the place, largely because of the wives. They had occasionally been seen on the Rec Deck, and he had treated them courteously. But he wanted no entanglements or rumors of same, and Gisa was entirely too curious. However, it was Nona who greeted him at the door.

"Mr. Spock, do come in. Please sit down. How may I serve you? Will you take refreshment?"

"No thank you. Captain Young requested that I come to his quarters this evening. If he is not here, I will come at another time."

At this point Gisa walked into the room. "Who is here, Nona? I heard you speaking. Oh- Mr. Spock, what an unexpected pleasure!"

Nona ignored Gisa's enthusiasm and responded with quiet poise. "Husband is not here, Mr. Spock, but we expect him shortly. I'm sure he would be pleased if you would wait. Meanwhile, how may we serve you? You have only to name your desires, and your wishes will be granted."

"What sort of desires do you expect me to have?"

"Your privileged guest status entitles you to anything within our power to give. There are no limits."

"Does that invitation extend to information?"

"What would you like to know?" Gisa's inquiry held a hint of nervous tension, which made it clear that she knew something she didn't want to divulge.

Keeping his tone mild, Spock asked what he hoped was an innocuous question. "Mere curiosity on my part. I wondered how often you had been guests at a reception such as the one held the day you arrived. You seemed to handle the crowds with ease."

Gisa laughed lightly, the nervousness gone from her voice. "I was raised with such skill as part of my education. We both were. It is not unusual in our culture. May I in turn ask you a question? You are under no obligation to answer."

"You may ask. The nature of the question will determine whether I may answer."

"Why do you not ask for material things? Nothing can be denied you."

Nona volunteered, "Husband does not live in poverty. He has considerable that he could give you."

"I do not live in poverty either. Why should I take from him that which I do not need, simply because he has given me the right to do so?"

The ladies pondered this in silence for a moment.

"You are a man of unique character," Gisa finally replied.

"Not unique. I know several aboard this vessel who would have responded the same. There is much more to life than material things."

At this point, Captain Young arrived, with apologies for his tardiness. The ladies retired to the other room, leaving Spock alone with Young.

"I trust my wives kept you occupied while waiting."

"They wondered why I have not taken advantage of my status to rob you of your wealth."

Young chuckled. "And why haven't you?"

"My needs have already been abundantly provided for. I have no need to take your wealth. I did not do for you what I did in expectation of any monetary reward. However, if you have a need to give me something, that is a different matter entirely."

"No monetary gift could repay what you have done for me."

"No payment is required. I would do it again with no regrets."

"No regrets? Not even the death of Captain Kirk?"

"Why do you say he is dead? Have you a report of which I am unaware?" Spock's quiet inquiry betrayed no concern.

"No, I have heard nothing. Not even rumors. I simply assumed he could not have survived this long."

A minute relaxation of tense muscles gave away his relief. "Captain, I do not believe Jim is dead. I would have sensed it. Somehow, he still lives."

"Spock, Jim Kirk is your best friend, right?"

"Yes."

"As long as you believe him still alive, how can you be my friend? Or I yours?"

"The two are not mutually exclusive. My soul is big enough for more than one friendship."

"Spock, why don't you view me as an enemy? I am part of those that banished and maybe killed your best friend. Have you no loyalty to him?"

"You are no more responsible for his banishment than I, possibly less so. It was I who refused to testify on his behalf. It was I who restored you to functioning, so he was required to leave the ship as per original orders."

"Both of those things he wanted you to do."

"Yes."

Spock refused to defend the character of his relationship with Jim Kirk. Silence reigned for a moment. Then Young abruptly changed the subject.

"I asked you to come this evening, because there are several things I want to discuss with you. My eye surgery is scheduled for 0700 tomorrow morning. During the surgery and for whatever recovery period is necessary, you will be in command. Do you have a problem with that?"

"None, sir."

"Good. Kirk said he could have left you in command, but he didn't want to. I wondered why not?"

"His reluctance had nothing to do with my ability or willingness to command. Is there anything about our current orders of which I need to be aware?"

"No. It's just routine. Though I understand the ambassador from Madacaye isn't the easiest to get along with."

"Perhaps you will be recovered sufficiently by the time we arrive."

"For your sake, I hope so. But that's the other thing I wish to discuss with you. It's been weeks since you taught me how to deal with pain. I have had no occasion to practice it. I do not know if I can do what you taught me. If I cannot, I do not know how long I will be unconscious."

"I will be glad to assist you. We can review the principles and techniques this evening. However, I know of no way you can practice the skill. Would you like me to link with you during the surgery, as we did before?"

"I would like for that to be unnecessary. But I will bow to your judgment as to the best way to handle this."

"Did Dr. McCoy indicate how long the surgery was likely to take?"

"He wasn't very precise, but we're talking hours not minutes." Young's voice held no apprehension.

"Given your level of experience, it is unlikely that you could maintain control for the hours required, without my assistance. Alternatively, you could practice your skill as long as possible, allowing unconsciousness to overtake you when you are no longer able to control. I cannot predict how that would affect the course of your recovery. However, if it becomes apparent that recovery is being hindered by your inability to deal with the pain, I will link with you and take your pain, as I did before."

"Spock! How can I let you do that again?!"

"Do you forbid it, then?"

"No, but- there must be a limit!"

"There is a limit to the quantity of pain I can tolerate at one time and continue to function. But that should not be a concern, since my own injury no longer hurts."

"Which would be easier for you: to assist me during the surgery, or help me recover afterwards?"

"Neither is difficult. The latter would take less of my time, but I am quite willing to do the former, if you would prefer it. You would then not need any recovery period."

"And you would carry my pain indefinitely? I don't think so. I will take responsibility for my own pain just as fast as you can teach me how. I will do the surgery without you. After that, you can give me lessons in pain management at your leisure when duty permits. If I still haven't recovered by the time we reach Madacaye, I'll give you the choice of whether you'd prefer to deal with my pain, or the ambassador."

"Sir, with all due respect to the ambassador, there will be no contest. You are clearly a better diplomat than I."

xxxx

The surgery lasted seven hours. McCoy was naturally exhausted. Spock kept his inquiries brief.

"Honestly, Spock, I don't know. As far as I can tell, the surgery was successful, but I won't really know until he wakes up and tries to use the eyes."

"And when would be the optimum time for that to occur?"

"Meaning you plan to wake him the same way you did the last time?"

"I do not expect it to take as long."

"No, I don't suppose it will." McCoy sighed. "He's a good student, Spock. He lasted over twenty minutes. No human would have lasted more than seconds." _Except maybe Jim_, he thought, but didn't say. "I need some sleep. If things get worse tonight, I'll call you. Otherwise, we'll see how he looks in the morning."

xxxx

McCoy let Spock in to see Young early the next morning. He was still unconscious; his condition stable. Gisa and Nona were there, as before.

"Good morning, ladies. With your permission, I will wake the Captain."

Spock sat down, readied himself, and placed his fingers on Young's bandaged face. The pain hit him like a sledge hammer. He yielded to it, drawing the pain into himself. He began searching through the haze for the core of Young's mind. He found him huddled in emotional misery.

*Spock! How can you stand it? I feel like such a failure! It was worse than I remembered. I only lasted a few minutes. And once I was buried under this blanket of pain, it was hopeless. So teach me. What do I do now?*

*You need to rest. I will return in a few hours.*

Spock withdrew, taking all of Young's pain with him. Young slept soundly until noon, when Spock returned. McCoy announced the eyes were looking good, but he wanted to give them another day of rest before taking off the bandages. Spock assisted Young in practicing pain management for some two hours. When he would have taken all Young's pain once more, Young objected.

"Spock, no. You have work to do. Dr. McCoy's not going to let me out of here today anyway. Better you give it back to me, than have us both be non-functional."

"Very well, Captain. As you wish."

Spock returned the pain to Young, who immediately lapsed into unconsciousness. The same scenario was repeated that evening. Spock would have kept the pain all night, so that Young could rest, but Young wouldn't let him. The next morning they discovered that the pain was multiplied if Young tried to use the eyes. And it was no better the next day. They held a conference with McCoy that afternoon.

"Captain, do you realize you're asking for a miracle? I had a dozen eye replacement patients in here last month. Not one of them was out of here in less than two weeks. The idea that you should be completely recovered in two days is just plain ridiculous."

"But Doctor, none of those patients had Spock, and none of them was the Captain. I _need_ to be functional. Spock, how long before we reach Madacaye?"

"At present speed, approximately two hours."

"There is no way I'm letting you out of here in two hours. Spock will just have to handle it without you," McCoy stated unequivocally, daring them to argue.

"I'm sorry, Spock. I expected it to be like the first time. Once you took the pain, it was gone and stayed gone. Physically, I felt fine. Why is this different?"

"There are several differences. On that occasion, your body had already had three days to heal. Also, you did not insist repeatedly on taking it all back. However, the biggest difference is that under these circumstances, you are receiving new pain stimuli every time you open your eyes. Long-term, on-going pain management is a much more complex skill. Perhaps with more time-"

"We don't have more time. So again, I'm going to insist that you give it all back to me. I'm sure you can handle the situation, but you don't need my pain to deal with too. Wake me if you need to. Otherwise, I'll see you when the mission is over."

"Very well, Captain."

xxxx

Three hours later, Spock was back in Sickbay. McCoy saw him arrive and intercepted him en route to Young's bedside.

"Spock! What are you doing back in here? Don't tell me you have to consult with Captain Young!"

"I will not tell you then." Spock's face was impassive.

"Spock! Don't get literal on me now. What's so bad planet-side that you can't handle it without Young? There's nothing he can do about whatever it is anyway."

"Ambassador DuChev clearly thinks otherwise. I have been given no alternatives, Doctor. I must wake the Captain, and he must function, at least for a short time."

"Tell the ambassador it's impossible."

"I cannot. He knows what I can do."

"You told him?!"

"He already knew. Whatever his source, he is well-informed."

"Then tell him I forbid it - doctor's orders."

"Doctor, if Captain Young and I do not appear in the Ambassador's office within the hour, his government will begin slaughtering their people - one hundred every hour until we comply."

McCoy dropped his jaw. "Then I'm coming too."

"That is your prerogative."

xxxx

Sullivan opted to send Chuck as well, so there were four of them gathered on the transporter platform, about forty-five minutes after the Ambassador's ultimatum. Scotty was at the controls. Young was standing, supported by Chuck, his eyes bandaged. Spock was standing unsupported, but McCoy could tell he was having some trouble handling all Young's pain. He had twice had to take more of it, in order to keep Young conscious.

"Spock, I'm tellin' ye, I dinna like this."

"You have your orders, Mr. Scott. Energize."

"Aye, sir."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

They materialized in a wide corridor, surrounded by a dozen guards. They were immediately hit with some kind of a stun beam, which paralyzed them, but left them conscious. The first thing their captors did was to remove the intradermal transponders that would have allowed Scotty to beam them aboard. The second thing they did was to relieve them of phasers, communicators, and any other equipment they happened to be carrying. Then they were unceremoniously dumped in a prison cell and left alone.

Chuck lay on the floor next to McCoy. Spock and Young had been placed on the two bunks. Whatever had hit them had not been a standard phaser stun charge. Chuck wondered what McCoy's opinion of it was, and what affect it had had on Young. Interestingly, while he knew they were in trouble, Chuck wasn't particularly alarmed. He mildly wondered why not. Did the stun beam affect his emotions as well?

The ability to speak returned before the ability to move. Chuck wouldn't have been aware of it, except McCoy started talking.

"This is a fine kettle of fish! Spock, I don't know why I let you talk me into this."

"Doctor, I made no effort to persuade you to join us." Spock's tone was mild, neither rebuking McCoy nor alarmed at their situation. "How is your patient? Captain?"

No response.

"He must be unconscious again. I won't know for sure how he is until the rest of this paralysis wears off. Too bad they took my med-scanner and medical supplies. There's not much I can do for him, but I'm warning you, Spock, you keep taking his pain every fifteen minutes, and you'll be non-functional too."

"I am aware of the difficulties, Doctor. Chuck, are you conscious?"

"Yes, I'm fine. That is, except for the paralysis. What was that they hit us with?"

"I am unfamiliar with the design, but it appears to operate on completely different principles from the standard phaser charge."

"Translation: he has no idea," put in McCoy. "Spock, I hope you have some idea how we're going to get out of this mess."

"Doctor, what makes you think we're going to?"

"Because I know you, Spock."

"Then you know that I am a Vulcan. Vulcans accept their circumstances without ranting and raving. I suggest you do the same."

McCoy snorted, but subsided into silence. An hour elapsed, during which Chuck slowly regained the use of his muscles. Finally, he sat up and looked at McCoy, who was still flat on his back. McCoy looked intently at him but said nothing. Chuck then looked over at Spock, who lay unmoving and silent. For all Chuck could tell, he could be as unconscious as Young. Chuck thought back on what Spock had said, and decided it had been a subtle command for silence. He could explain McCoy's behavior no other way. So he lay down again, and waited for something to happen.

Another fifteen minutes went by, during which no one moved or spoke. Abruptly the cell door opened and two guards entered, with weapons at the ready. A third man followed but stayed by the door. One guard prodded Chuck to get up. Not sure of Spock's intentions, Chuck complied slowly. The guard then prodded McCoy, who said he couldn't get up. The third man said to leave him, and they ushered Chuck out the door and relocked it.

McCoy's protest was whispered. "Spock!-"

"Regrettable," was Spock's only reply.

McCoy lost his cool. "Spock! Is that all you can say?!" His voice was raised clearly above a whisper.

"Doctor-" Spock cautioned.

"I don't care who's listening! How can you lie there and do nothing! Heaven knows what they're going to do to Chuck!"

"What do you expect me to do?"

"I don't know, but we have to do _something!"_

Spock did not reply.

"Sometimes your Vulcan performance makes me so mad!"

"Doctor, it is not a performance. It is who I am."

"Right."

xxxx

Chuck was taken to an interrogation room. He was familiar with all the tactics. None of them worked. He simply turned on the poker-faced stare, and refused to say anything. The only information he gleaned from them was that they had no idea who he was or what he was doing there. They understood from his uniform that he was a security officer of the rank of lieutenant commander. But they knew nothing of his status as an observer.

When they gave up the interrogation, Chuck expected them to execute him. Instead, they returned him to the cell with the others. He gave McCoy an encouraging smile, and lay down, grateful to be alive.

"You all right?" whispered McCoy.

"Sure. Why are we whispering? Is Spock sleeping?"

"No, I am not," Spock spoke at a normal volume. "And whispering would not hinder most monitoring devices." Spock sat up, and McCoy did likewise. "I am pleased that you have returned. I regretted placing you in harm's way."

"I didn't expect to be alive. Standard procedure following interrogation of an apparently insignificant prisoner is execution."

"Indeed, which leads me to hope that our situation may not be entirely hopeless."

At this moment, the cell door opened and the guards removed Spock. McCoy looked Chuck up and down with a medical practitioner's eye.

"You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. Standard interrogation is painful, but not fatal. I'll recover, don't worry. And they didn't learn anything from me. How's Captain Young?"

"Without my scanner, I can't be sure, but he's alive, if still unconscious."

xxxx

They took Spock to the interrogation room and strapped him into the chair.

"This is unnecessary. I am Vulcan. Whether or not I tell you what you wish to know is completely unrelated to the persuasive tactics suggested by this equipment."

"Sorry. I have my orders."

"Orders from whom?"

"I ask the questions, not you."

But they did not in fact ask him any questions. Instead, the next four hours contained a variety of pain stimuli, some of it quite unique. Spock reacted with equanimity to all of it. His captors didn't seem to care. He tried to engage them in conversation, but they would not. His impression from their manner was that someone else was watching. That was confirmed when a voice spoke from a speaker.

"Bring him to my office."

His captors wasted no time in complying, but did not linger in the room to which they took him. Left alone with the one in charge, Spock immediately sensed an evil malice about the man. There would be no negotiating with this one.

"You are Spock, the Vulcan. Your ship wishes to speak with you."

Scotty's voice emanated from a speaker. "Enterprise _to Spock. Come in please. ... Oh, there you are. What's your status, Spock?"_

"Code purple."

Scotty sighed. _"Aye, sir. Scott out."_

"What does 'code purple' mean?!"

Spock did not reply.

"I abhor unnecessary killing. It is such a waste of resources. Fortunately, you have provided me with two expendable hostages. I will use them if I must."

After the briefest of pauses, Spock replied. "Code purple means obey previous orders; not at liberty to speak freely."

"And those orders were-?"

"If he had not heard from me by a certain time, which has more than elapsed, he was to abandon the landing party, and report to the nearest starbase for instructions."

"Abandon the landing party?"

"Yes, sir. The Federation does not bargain for the release of hostages."

The man barked an inquiry into the intercom, and was told that the ship had indeed left orbit. He turned his anger on Spock, and stepping forward, slapped him across the face. Spock did not respond. He slapped him again. Spock remained unmoved.

"You will call them back!"

"No." Spock's reply was mild in tone, but firm in resolve.

Suddenly the man's attitude became sly and crafty. "Oh, yes, I think you will."

He turned and barked more orders into the intercom. The guards came and took Spock back to the interrogation room. Rather than strap him into the chair however, they backed him against a wall and attached his wrists to manacles hanging there for the purpose. Leaving him, they returned a few minutes later dragging a heavy object. The leader's voice came from the speaker.

"Get him in the chair, and give him the full treatment. I don't care if he's unconscious; just do it."

Spock gathered they had brought Young.

"This is a useless waste of time. The Captain cannot feel the pain you inflict."

"Will you call your ship?"

"No."

They kept it up for almost thirty minutes before deciding Spock was right.

xxxx

Chuck and McCoy were sitting on the bunks, talking quietly, speculating on their ignorance, when the guards returned. They were both taken to the interrogation room.

"Spock! What's going on?" was McCoy's question. They led him to a pair of manacles opposite Spock.

"The Captain has not regained consciousness. They require a victim who feels."

_And I'm it_, thought Chuck, as he smiled grimly at McCoy. They strapped him in, and began to wire him to the equipment. A voice came over the speaker.

"Will you call your ship?"

"No," was Spock's firm reply.

_So that's what this is about_, thought Chuck.

"Spock, even if they kill me, don't give them what they want."

"Are you going to just stand there and let them do this?!" McCoy protested.

"How do you suggest I prevent it?"

"But Spock-"

Spock did not reply, and McCoy lapsed into silence. Chuck's attention was suddenly riveted on his own body. The pain was intense, nothing like the previous interrogation. That had been a game in comparison. This was worse than the eyes, worse even than talking to Twenty-nine. It went on for about five minutes; then they turned it off. The voice again asked if Spock would call the ship.

Chuck answered for him. "No!"

They slammed him with pain. He gasped. Tried to talk through it.

"Spock... promise... me..."

"Chuck, you have my word on it."

"Thank..."

He gave up trying to talk and just endured it. Every few minutes they turned it off and asked the question again. Spock's reply never wavered. Chuck lasted over two hours. He never screamed, though his breathing was very ragged. His body went rigid with tension every time they turned it on, and from there degenerated into jerking, twitching, and shaking.

Chuck woke up to realize he was hanging by the wrists. He got his feet under him and stood up. Realizing he must have passed out, he opened his eyes to find they now had McCoy in the chair.

"Spock, I'm not Jim, or even Chuck. I can't do this."

"Lord, I ask for Your peace and Your strength for Leonard right now."

"Thanks, Spock."

A supernatural calm came over the room. Chuck felt it as a warmth, relaxing him. McCoy never made a sound, or moved a muscle. If he felt the pain at all, Chuck could not tell by sight or sound. The voice over the speaker was angry.

"I don't know what you did, but it won't do you any good!"

"Nothing you do to any of us will make me change my mind. You are wasting your time." Spock calmly but firmly refused to be intimidated.

They kept it up for an hour before admitting defeat. They put the four of them back in their cell to await the next day. No food or drink had been provided. Chuck rested on the floor, having refused the bunk. McCoy fussed, but Chuck assured him he was fine, just tired. Spock sat on the floor and placed his hand on Young's face. Chuck fell asleep.

*Captain, I have a report on our status.*

*Yes, Spock. Where are we?*

*The situation is as I suspected it might be. We are prisoners. I have sent the ship away, as we discussed. Is this man Ambassador DuChev?*

Spock showed him a mental picture of the leader of those who held them captive.

*No, he is not. However, I know who he is. It explains much. He is a personal enemy, as well as an enemy of my people.*

*Do you know his present purpose? He seems determined to get access to the _Enterprise_.*

*He undoubtedly needs transport, but he picked the _Enterprise_ because I am her Captain. A personal victory over me has been a goal for a long time. Spock-* He hesitated. *Spock, there are things about me that you do not know.*

*Captain, I regret not having informed you before, but there are no secrets in a mind-meld.*

*You already know?! But- you've said nothing!*

*That which I learn in a mind-meld is held in the strictest confidence. I do not speak of it even to the one I have melded with.*

*But if you know everything - then - did you tell Kirk? Does Sullivan know?*

*I have told no one, nor would I have mentioned it now, except- my apologies, Captain. I did not mean to distract you with non-essentials. I would be glad to discuss it fully when we have the leisure of less hostile circumstances.*

*Very well, Spock. For now, we'll leave it at the fact that Bradeg is a formidable foe. His goals involve conquest. Defeating me is an added bonus, but by no means his primary aim. He must not be allowed to succeed.*

*My impression thus far is that he is operating with a handful of men, who are afraid of him. I gather he is not indigenous to this planet. Presumably he has gained control over this people, at least sufficient to have captured us. He will not get the _Enterprise_, but if we do not take action against him, another ship could be lured into the same trap.*

*What are your thoughts on a plan of attack?*

*Your continued unconsciousness is a difficulty. We need a miracle. May I pray for you?*

Young hesitated, then spoke with resolve. *Yes. To conquer Bradeg, I'll take whatever works.*

*Lord, I ask You to bring healing to the Captain's eyes. In order to achieve victory over this evil force, we need him conscious, able to see with pain-free, functioning eyes. Thank you Lord, for Your healing power.*

*Spock! The blanket of pain is gone! The eyes feel whole!*

*Yes, Captain. That is what I asked for. The Lord has healed you. That being the case, we need to discuss strategy.*

They discussed plans for over two hours. Then Spock conferred briefly with McCoy and Chuck by mind-meld. Finally he sat down in a corner by the door and pretended to sleep.

Some four hours went by. McCoy slept; Chuck dozed. Young and Spock were both wide awake, though they appeared not to be. Suddenly the door opened. Spock let the first guard past him, tripped the second with a sweeping kick, rose quickly and overpowered the third with a nerve pinch. Chuck moved into action and took out the first guard, and then the second. McCoy sat up; Young remained motionless.

Chuck took charge. They rigged a stretcher for Young, collected the guards' weapons, and left the cell, locking the guards in. Assuming the cell was monitored, they wished Bradeg to believe they were trying to escape. Also, that Young was still unconscious. With Chuck in the lead, they checked every door they came to. The stun gun took out six more guards before exhausting its charge. He tossed it down and grabbed another.

With Spock's low-voiced directions, they approached Bradeg's office. Leaving McCoy with Young in the corridor, Chuck stormed the office door, and Spock slipped in behind him. Chuck's spectacular entrance included a forward roll, landing prone on the floor, spraying the room with repeated stun charges til the gun was exhausted. Bradeg sat behind his desk and laughed at him.

"That thing won't work in here, you fool!"

He pulled out his own gun, a nasty-looking projectile affair.

"Spock, stop right there. You don't want to find out what this gun delivers."

Spock continued inching his way around the opposite side of the room from where Chuck was.

"Spock! He means it!" Chuck warned.

Spock did not stop. His goal was to focus Bradeg's attention away from the door. Better that Bradeg fire the gun at him than at Chuck.

"Spock, don't push me. I don't want to kill you just yet."

Spock kept inching closer. Bradeg fired. Spock dropped to the floor. Chuck saw a streak of white rush Bradeg, but he heard no sound. Young's attack was completely silent. He kicked the gun out of Bradeg's hand, and there ensued a spectacular fight. Chuck was impressed with the combat skill of each. For several long minutes, he couldn't tell who was winning.

Chuck retrieved the projectile weapon, but made no attempt to use it. The fight moved too fast. McCoy made his way to Spock, but Chuck couldn't tell how he was. He began to wonder if he should try to help Young, but decided against it. He would just be in the way.

Finally the dust settled with Young on top. Bradeg lay on the floor with a broken neck. Chuck stood up; Young nodded at him, then turned to check on Spock. McCoy and Spock both stood up.

"He missed. I am uninjured," was Spock's report.

"I kicked his hand as he fired. He is dead. I must check his files, however."

"I had the same thought, but you will be faster than I. Chuck, be so good as to check the corridor for stray guards."

When Chuck returned a few minutes later with a negative report, McCoy was staring open-mouthed at Young. Still wearing the bandages, Young had opened a slit for each eye, and was busily going through Bradeg's desk. Surely Spock had told McCoy about the healed eyes. What was so shocking then? Young had finished on the desk and was starting in on the computer terminal. Chuck saw nothing unusual except that Young seemed more confident and self-assured. Young drew Spock into a technical discussion of Bradeg's security measures. Chuck turned to McCoy, hoping for some answers. After a moment, McCoy noticed him and gestured with his head. They retreated to the far corner and sat on the floor.

"Chuck, you're pretty perceptive. What do you see when you look at Young? Am I imagining things?"

"You knew his eyes were healed, didn't you?"

"Yes, I don't mean that."

"You saw something while I was out in the corridor."

"I guess it's as much Spock as it is Young himself. Spock is deferring to Young, not just because he's the Captain. He really thinks Young can do this job better, and it's not because he has eyes and Spock doesn't. I'd like to know what Spock knows about Young that he's not telling."

"So would I, but right now, I better check the corridor again."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

It took half an hour to break into Bradeg's system.

"That did it, Spock. We're in." Pause. "Oh, my! This was worse than I suspected. He's got quite an arsenal stored here. Here's the layout of the whole place. This'd be faster if you could see it too."

"I apologize for my disability, Captain. Perhaps you will wish to replace me as First Officer."

"Banish the thought, Spock. But could you see it with my eyes in a mind-meld?"

"Yes, I could."

"Let's not waste time then. Get over here."

So Spock stood behind Young and placed his hands on Young's head. The rest of their conversation was all mental.

"Incredible!" muttered McCoy. "That's the kind of thing Jim would have suggested. And Spock would have listed three reasons why it was dangerous before doing it anyway. With Young, he doesn't even argue. Why not?"

Fifteen minutes later, they had everything they needed. Young downloaded files onto a cartridge. Spock withdrew, and Young began giving orders.

"Chuck, you're with Spock. Your first task: contact the _Enterprise_; secondly, round up and secure all the guards. Doctor, you will accompany me. We're going to free the Ambassador and his party. Spock, we'll meet you on Level 5. We have to disarm the arsenal. Let's go."

The communications room was easy to find; its operator had been stunned on their previous pass through the area. Spock hesitated at the comm board.

"You want to use my eyes like you did the Captain's?" Chuck volunteered.

"It would be faster, if you are willing."

"Go ahead. Do you need my hands too?"

"No. It is not necessary."

Spock established the link, and had the board figured out in a few minutes. He broke the link before calling the _Enterprise_.

"Spock to _Enterprise._"

"Scott, here. I'm verra glad ta hear from ye, Spock."

"Code white. Please return to orbit, Mr. Scott. Enemy forces have been subdued. I would value your assistance in disarming the munitions. What is your ETA?"

"Fifteen minutes, sir. Have ye coordinates?"

Spock fed in the coordinates, informed Scotty of the guards to be held as prisoners, and signed off.

xxxx

Young led McCoy through a maze of passages to a group of cells far removed from where they had been held. Young dispatched the two guards with ease, and no help from McCoy. Unlocking the cells, Young located the Ambassador, and advised him of the situation. There were six of them in three cells, all suffering from lack of provisions. They had received water once a day, but very little else for several weeks. They were too weak to move, so McCoy stayed with them while Young went to Level 5.

By the time Chuck and Spock arrived on Level 5, Young had already secured the area. Three guards were out cold on the floor, and a fourth was more permanently silenced. Chuck's opinion of Young rose another notch. Young was examining the security system, looking for overrides and boobytraps, when Scotty materialized next to Chuck. He brought three communicators with him.

"Excellent, Mr. Scott, thank you. Chuck, take charge of beaming up the prisoners. Dr. McCoy is with the Ambassador and his party. They need medical care. Getting from here to there is a bit of a challenge, however."

"I'll go," offered Spock. "With Mr. Scott here, you don't need me."

"Yes, we do, but I am concerned about the Ambassador, so take Dr. McCoy a communicator, but come right back. This is going to take awhile."

xxxx

The next day, Spock went to Young's office for a private conversation.

"You wanted to see me, Captain?"

"Yes, Spock, sit down. Since we are en route to Starbase 9 with the Ambassador's party and prisoners secured, I deem this to be a sufficiently non-hostile environment in which to pursue the subject you brought up yesterday. Do you concur?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Well then, since there are no secrets in a mindmeld, you must know who and what I am, and what my assignment is on this ship. Why haven't you exposed me to your friends? And you knew before Captain Kirk left. Why didn't you tell him? And don't give me that nonsense about confidentiality. If you'd thought it necessary, you would have told him and apologized later."

"There have been numerous occasions when confidentiality has prohibited my telling what I know. Captain Kirk understands that, and has trusted my conclusions without knowing the facts. In this case, however, telling him would not have changed his actions anyway."

"Why not?"

"You are here at the request of Starfleet, to settle the Christian question. The fact that you are a professional spy is irrelevant. Your mission to uncover the Christian conspiracy, to infiltrate our inner circle to ferret out our secrets, is exactly what we want you to do. Had I told Captain Kirk, he would have laughed and cheered you on. He likes you. This version of reality makes much more sense than the falsified service record."

"You still talk about him in the present tense."

"Captain Kirk is still alive. I will know when he is not."

"I do not understand that. But why haven't you told your friends? Surely you are more loyal to them than to me."

"That is irrelevant. I have not told them because it would ruin the experiment. Starfleet wants to know if we will let you become one of us. They have stacked the deck against it, by attempting to convince us of your incompetence, as well as your anti-Christian attitude. So, infiltrate as deeply as you can; we welcome you with open arms. But I will not tell them what you are doing, because I do not want to spoil the results."

"You know what I'm doing, and you don't object?"

"We have no secrets; there is no conspiracy. The more deeply you infiltrate, the more sure you will be of the truth. But I cannot guarantee that you yourself will not be changed."

"Like the healing of my eyes? How can one ignore a thing like that?"

"The power of God is real, yes, but that is not what I meant. Real change takes place in the context of relationship. If you will become one of us, you will be changed by your relationships with us."

"You've given me much to ponder. Thank you, Spock. I'll admit though, that the one thing I still want more of is your ability to deal with pain."

"I will gladly continue to teach you as we have opportunity." He paused. "There is something you could do for me as well."

"What's that?"

"Hand-to-hand combat training. I need much practice to function without eyes. Your skill is considerable, and I need someone who is not afraid of my disability."

"And you think I'm not?"

"I greatly enjoyed our game of cat and mouse."

"So did I. But then we were both blind."

"Jim Kirk did this for me, but our time was limited. I am asking this of you as a friend. Will you help me?" Spock virtually never pleaded for anything, but this came close. It was a real need, and could enhance their growing friendship.

"Yes, Spock, I will."

xxxx

They met that evening in the gym, and most evenings thereafter, for an hour or two. Word traveled and most of the crew watched at least some of it. Chuck listened to the comments, both in the gym and the Rec Deck. All were impressed with Young's skill. Many were appalled at how he pushed Spock. But those who knew Spock, were sure Young was doing exactly what Spock wanted him to.

The fifth night in a row, Chuck watched Young beat Spock repeatedly. He spent more time on his back than standing. As soon as he rose, Young downed him again. He was fast and silent. Finally Young called a halt. Spock bowed to him, as to a teacher.

"Still at it, I see." McCoy came up behind Chuck. "Meet Spock at his stubbornest."

"Is Young really better than Spock? I mean, other than the eyes. If Spock could see, would Young still win?"

"I don't know. Possibly. The biggest problem is that Young is so quiet, Spock can't hear him. Will Spock give up? Not as long as Young is willing to keep beating him up."

A week later, Chuck found out Young was just as stubborn. Sullivan had assigned him to Spock that day. After the usual session in the gym, Spock invited Chuck to his quarters. He arrived to find that Young was already there. It transpired that they met thus after each workout.

They had a device Spock told him they had borrowed from Sickbay. It was used for 'command conditioning', which Chuck understood was a euphemism for legal torture. Spock proceeded to push Young every bit as much as Young had been pushing Spock. He was teaching Young to deal with pain, and Spock kept him on the edge of losing it for over an hour. They finally quit and Spock put the device away. Young sat up and smiled at Chuck.

"You probably think we're both crazy."

"No, I don't. If it's a contest, who's winning?"

"It is not a contest," Spock replied. "We are each helping the other in an area of weakness. You are doing well, Captain; you have made significant progress already."

"Thank you, Spock. My wives do not understand, especially Nona. I'm glad that you do. Is there anything you want me to change about your workout?"

"That is not for me to say. You are the teacher."

"The teacher requires the student's opinion," Young stubbornly insisted.

"The student wishes the teacher to continue to apply all his skill, disregarding the student's disability or lack of visible progress."

"That's what I thought, but I'm not sure you'll tell me when you've had enough."

"I will have had enough when I can consistently win, and not before then. Even then, I would value continued practice. There is no one else aboard with your skill level."

"Can I interrupt?" Chuck asked.

"Certainly."

"Spock, if you could see, would Young still win?"

"Possibly not, at least not every time."

"So if you're equally matched, except for the eyes, why do you defer to him as teacher?"

"Because he has the ability to move silently. When I can effectively counter that ability, I will ask him to teach me. But I must first earn the right to that knowledge."

"How do you expect to be able to counter it?"

"I must be able to sense his presence."

"While he's throwing you all over the gym floor?" Chuck quipped sarcastically.

"Yes. I know it can be done. I will learn."

"Spock, you are stubborn."

He did not deny it.

xxxx

Young continued to infiltrate. He spent time with each one of them. He talked technical manuals with Scotty, and classic literature with Chekov. He let McCoy study his hybrid body to his heart's content. He played simulation games with Sulu, and beat him more than once. He surprised everybody by singing with Uhura. He invited the six of them to dine with him and his wives, no observers present. He could detect no change in their behavior. They all seemed to genuinely like him, and were undisturbed by his wives. Their comfortable manner with each other now no longer ceased whenever he entered a room. But they still spoke to him with respect and deference, as fitting the Captain. One day he was having lunch with Spock and broached this subject.

"Spock, I overhear a great deal of teasing on the Bridge. They even tease you, often unmercifully. You do not seem to object to their laughing at you. Why not?"

"They would do it to you too, if they thought you wanted them to."

"You want them to? Why would I want to be laughed at?"

"It is a privilege."

"It's part of belonging to the group, isn't it? If I want to be one of you, I have to want this too?"

"How deeply do you wish to be changed?"

A few days later, Young laughed with the others when they teased Spock. He began laughing at most of the jokes. A few he didn't understand. The next week, he dared to tease Spock. He cringed as he said it, but forced himself to make a cutting remark about Spock liking to lie on his back on the gym floor. The Bridge crew chuckled in amusement, so apparently the joke was acceptable. Young readied himself for an immediate counter-attack. It did not materialize. The next day, he cornered Spock and asked him about it.

"Spock, are you offended by what I said yesterday?"

"No, Captain. Did you think I was?"

"Why did you not counter-attack then?"

"Captain, it is not a battlefield, with attack and counter. It is fun. You are trying too hard. Relax. Enjoy it. But I warn you. Be very sure you want this. If it is not fun for you, they will know it. Do not expect them to risk it twice."

Young continued to work at it diligently. He got so he felt comfortable teasing Spock. Then he began teasing the others as well. The first time they teased him back took him completely by surprise. It was Sulu who risked it. It took him a moment to process it.

"Did you say what I think you said?"

"Yes, sir," Sulu replied boldly.

"Say it again."

"I said, if Spock could see that you were green with envy, he wouldn't spend so much time on his back."

The idea was so ludicrous, Young burst out laughing. The rest joined him. Sulu just grinned.

"Tell me, Mr. Sulu, was that comment designed to poke fun at me, or at Mr. Spock?"

"Both, sir."

"Thank you."

Once the ice was broken, it was open season on Captain Young. They ganged up on him and had a field day for the rest of the shift. He laughed hysterically for most of two hours. He had had no idea how much fun this was. And Spock was right: they had changed him. A month previously, he would not have considered their insulting remarks funny. He was shocked at how profoundly moved he was that they dared to do this, to include him to this extent.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Kirk's days and weeks were full. He was often tired, but enjoyed himself nonetheless. Especially, the nightly walk to the lab. He had not realized how cold it would be, and he often had to jog to stay warm enough. But it was forty minutes of solitude and he cherished every minute. He had not expected to have any emotional problems with it, and it was true that he never considered escape as a live option. Nor did he dread the sessions with Koh. But he so enjoyed the freedom of his time alone, that he climbed the steps to the lab with reluctance each night.

Once inside, he was fine. He actually enjoyed working with Koh. Because of the way he had set it up, they were not adversaries, but part of the same team. Kirk freely shared his emotional responses as well as physical reactions. And he was neither surprised nor angry that Koh used the information to push him to conquer new challenges. Indeed he would have been bored otherwise.

The public obedience trials with Konti were just plain fun. Occasionally he would suggest something new, just to keep things interesting. One evening Konti asked him about it.

"Why do you keep coming up with new ways for me to humiliate you? I think it's disgusting."

"I'm easily bored."

"For that matter, most of a slave's life is boringly repetitious."

"In that case, be as repetitious as you like, and I promise not to complain." He grinned in amusement.

"You actually like doing this! How can you!"

"It's all in the perspective. You see it as torture; I see it as humorous entertainment. A performance, if you will. And I like making people laugh, so yes, I enjoy doing this. Is there anything I can do to make it more enjoyable for you?"

"Kirk!"

xxxx

Two days later Konti took him to the weight room in the basement of his club. The place was deserted, but Kirk assumed it qualified as public, because someone could walk in at any time. He expected to hold Konti's towel, wipe sweat from his face, and count repetitions, while Konti worked out. Instead he was directed to pick up the weights himself. Biting back a protest - slaves do not question instructions - he did as he was told.

For most of an hour, Konti put him through a series of preliminary exercises designed to find out what he could do. To Kirk, it was obvious that Konti was no novice. After awhile, Konti left the room, gesturing for Kirk to continue, which he did.

Konti was no sooner out of sight than three others walked in. They took one look and were highly offended at Kirk's presumptuous use of club equipment. Kirk put the weights down and stood quietly with lowered eyes. The center of some highly vocal outrage, Kirk wondered how fast it would escalate to something more violent than verbal abuse. Into this maelstrom walked Konti. But he did not come to Kirk's rescue by taking responsibility for Kirk's actions. Instead he merely agreed that Kirk's presumption should be punished. They agreed to wait while Kirk fetched the whip from the flitter.

Kirk dropped to hands and knees while they each administered five lashes. Konti's were last and seemed extra ferocious. Kirk guessed that Konti was angry at himself and the whole situation, and wasn't even aware that he was taking it out on Kirk. And Kirk wouldn't tell him either.

Afterwards they went upstairs, and Kirk served Konti a meal. Two hours later they were back in the weight room, which was again deserted. This time Konti worked him for over an hour before they were interrupted. Suddenly Konti turned his back and began fiddling with equipment at the far end of the room. The next moment the room was full of newcomers. Kirk concluded that Konti must have heard them coming.

What followed was a repetition of the earlier scene, except that they doubled the number of lashes, since it was a second offense. Kirk neither moved nor made a sound throughout. One of them remarked on it, since he had participated in the twenty-lash party in the dining room the previous month. Konti replied that he was somewhat better trained now. He must have managed to say it with a straight face, because the answer seemed to satisfy.

Dead silence in the flitter all the way home. Once inside, Konti dropped into a chair and put his face in his hands. Kirk sat on the floor in front of him.

"Konti, you are troubled. Please talk to me. How can I help you?"

"You want to _help_ me?! You should _hate_ me! I despise myself!" He looked bleakly at Kirk, and spoke more quietly, but no less intensely. "Why aren't you angry?"

"Konti, your problem is that you are beginning to think of me as an equal. You're right, if you had done that to an equal, it would have been very dishonorable. But I am not your equal. I am your slave, to do with as you please. You can do me no wrong. By definition, whatever you do to me is right because you are the master. In this context, honor and dishonor have no meaning."

"You really believe that? Then why have you treated me with honor since the first day we met?"

"Just because you can do me no wrong is no reason I should wrong you."

He grinned briefly, then became serious again.

"Maybe it would help if I explain why I put these public obedience sessions in the plan I proposed to Koh. It's very important that this city view me as a slave. If they see me as a military prisoner, then the only place for me is a prison cell. Slave status gives me a place in your home. I'll do as many sessions like this afternoon as you can come up with, if it secures for me the right to spend time with you here."

"You don't think I engineered that on purpose, do you?!"

"No, I didn't really. But it worked beautifully. They'll be talking about it for a week at least. But tell me, what's with the weight lifting? What is your objective?"

"I thought if you looked a little less like a weakling, I wouldn't mind so much beating you up, slapping you silly, and whipping you every time I turn around. Don't get me wrong, I know you're not a weakling - I've seen what you can do. But you look like one, so I wanted to put some muscle on those shoulders. But it won't work. We'll never get the weight room alone consistently. And they're right; I'd never get official permission for you to use the place."

"Talk to Koh. If he can get it classified as torture," he grinned, "and that shouldn't be too hard, maybe he can include it in his experiments. Worth a try, anyway."

Three nights later, weight workouts were added to Koh's arsenal. Thereafter Kirk spent hours of grueling work with the weights. Wryly amused with himself, he questioned, _Why did I get myself into this?_ The answer contained no humor. _Because Konti wants it. Avoidance of work or pain is no part of my purpose. I am here to serve the Lord by being a friend to Konti, and to Koh, and any others the Lord sends me._

xxxx

The observers' panel had been aboard the _Enterprise _for two months. Sullivan called a briefing to discuss their findings. Gliff shared first.

"I was put on this panel for one reason. You wanted to know how they would treat a social outcast. I'm here to tell you, I've never been treated with so much respect in all my life. And it's not because they're ignorant. They know what I am. But it doesn't matter. And I don't think it's because I'm on this panel either. The top brass knows, Spock and Uhura and them, but some of the guys I meet on the Rec Deck have no idea what I'm doing here. The only ridicule I've heard was from a new guy. Several others came up to me afterwards and apologized. They said he wasn't a Christian yet, and didn't know how to behave."

"Thank you, Gliff. Lila, what have you got?"

"Well, first of all, I haven't been able to uncover any hint of gender-based discrimination. Secondly, I have found no evidence that Christians are treated any different than non-Christians, either better or worse. And get this: the non-Christians are far more emphatic in their insistence that there's no discrimination going on. As for a conspiracy, there's zero evidence on that too. And I've looked hard; it just isn't there."

"Thank you. Sam?"

"I've spent a lot of time on the Bridge being eyes for Spock. So most of my observation has been of the senior officers. In my opinion they have thoroughly accepted Young as their Captain. They like him, respect him, and treat him as one of them. They have made no attempt to convert him to Christianity. The subject is seldom even mentioned on the Bridge."

"And Chuck?"

"I'm here because you want the nuances, the undercurrents, the things that aren't obvious. So first, let me say that I don't disagree with what's been said, as far as it goes. One thing that's very subtle is that Spock knows something about Young that he's not telling. Furthermore the five of them know that Spock knows something; they're not asking what it is; they just follow his lead. In short, they trust Young because Spock does, without having to know why.

"Secondly, while there's no discrimination, persecution, exclusiveness, or any of that, it's not true that they're powerless. They're so confident, open, and free with themselves, precisely because they know what they have. They know what they can do, and they're not worried about the opposition. I've seen some examples of that power, and it's real. The healings are spectacular and definitely powerful. But it's more than that.

"To begin with, I thought it was just Kirk. Then I discovered Spock has it too. And I've seen it at work in bunches of others too, though perhaps not quite as strongly. It's the attitude of 'Give to the max; there's no such thing as too much.' What I haven't quite figured out is how they can keep giving and giving, and never run out. But it's that giving attitude that disarms the opposition.

"You wanted Kirk off the ship, so the Christian movement would die out. And if its foundation was in Kirk, it would have collapsed. But it's not. Christianity is alive and well, and still growing. In my opinion, the more you try to stifle it, the faster it will spread."

"And what about the concerns Pierce referred to in the courtroom?"

Sam replied, "I can find no supportable evidence for the idea that Christianity is exclusive. Yes, they believe that theirs is the only right way. But they don't exclude anybody who disagrees. They'll talk theology if you want to, but they don't try to force their ideas down your throat. They'll pray for you if you let them, but they accept you as a person even if you say 'no'."

"I'm afraid I'd have to agree," Lila admitted. "And I can't find any evidence of rebellion against the authority of Starfleet either. There's no record of any instance of someone objecting to orders based on a religious conviction. I looked at all the files, especially where I could find a non-Christian superior. I turned up absolutely nothing."

"Okay, we're here for another month anyway. Do you need more time?"

"I don't think any more time will change my conclusions."

They each voiced similar sentiments.

"All right. Thank you all. I'll file my report and let you know."

xxxx

Sullivan met privately with Young.

"I have to file my report within a day or two. What progress do you have for me?"

"Spock knows who I am - he learned it in the mindmeld. But he hasn't told anyone else, and the knowledge has not turned him against me. They have let me into their personal lives as a friend, as well as accepted me on the Bridge. There has been little opportunity to test how I would fit in with that famous rapport they use in crises."

"And what about the Christian question?"

"They've seldom mentioned it, and no one has tried to convert me. Even when my eyes were healed, they didn't jump on it and ask me about becoming a Christian. Nobody said, 'You owe it to God, because He healed you.' I don't even think they thought it. I suppose they're waiting for me to make the first move, but they don't seem to be in any hurry about it."

"All right. Anything else?"

"They said I'd be here for twelve months. Since Kirk was taken by the Klingons, there's no reason to wait twelve months to replace him. Spock thinks he's still alive, but that seems unlikely. Any idea what Command plans to do?"

"No, but don't be too sure they won't wait the twelve months. They'll continue to try to give the _Enterprise_ light duty, but no guarantees that you won't have to handle anything critical. They assured me you could really be Captain of this vessel. Were they wrong?"

"No, I can handle it. And it's easier now that I've stopped trying to appear incompetent. Once Spock told me he knew, it seemed pointless. No, my concern is for Nona and Gisa. This existence is so confining for them. But they will manage."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Three weeks later, Chuck was again observing Spock and Young work out. It appeared to Chuck that Spock had made no progress, and was still being tossed to the floor all the time. As he continued to watch, it seemed that Young was having to work at it a little harder, but maybe he was imagining it. And Young was definitely still in full control, never giving Spock a chance to do anything.

Afterwards Chuck went to Spock's quarters. They had asked for his assistance with Young's project that night. He entered to find Young sprawled on Spock's bed. Spock sat on the floor and offered Chuck the chair. It seemed to Chuck that these two were very comfortable with each other. Different than with Kirk and Spock, but as open, without secrets.

"Thank you for coming, Chuck. We asked you because, other than Dr. McCoy, you are the only one who knows we are doing this. And you seemed less disapproving than he."

"I don't disapprove at all, but before we get started, can I ask you a couple of questions about those sessions in the gym?"

"Sure. Ask away," Young offered.

"My impression is that Spock isn't making any progress. Why are you still trying?"

"Because Spock wants me to. Spock, you want to tell him more?"

"While there is no visible progress, it is not quite true that there is _no_ progress. The Captain has had to continually change his strategy, so that I cannot tell what he will do simply by established patterns. Also, I have had to erect mental shields, so that I cannot sense his presence mentally."

"But I thought you said that's what you were trying to do."

"Sense his presence, yes, but not mentally. We have melded frequently enough that I can sense his mind when we are in the same room. I would have no such advantage with an enemy. I must be able to sense his movements without benefit of sight, sound, or mental reception. When I can do that, I will be able to counter those movements."

"And are you making any progress?"

"I have learned many things which do not work."

"Captain, how do you feel about doing this to Spock?"

"I greatly enjoy working with Spock, and I would enjoy it equally if he were the one winning all the time. Winning is, in a sense, irrelevant. This is something we are doing together, in spite of what it looks like. Just as what we do in here is a joint project, not something he does to me."

"Thank you. No further questions. What do you want me to do?"

Spock replied. "We have reached a plateau in the Captain's learning. To move on, we need a sighted person to administer the pain. Do you have experience with this device?"

"Yes. It's a standard part of the training for security officers."

"I have taken the liberty of modifying this unit to produce double the normal output. Captain, please give the device to Chuck."

Young rose in a fluid motion, like a dancer, handed the unit to Chuck, and returned to sprawl on the bed, the picture of relaxed unconcern.

"Are you as unconcerned about this as you look?"

"Possibly not quite, but my reason for concern is not what you think. I have never been afraid of pain. Learning to override my body's instinctive response to it is a real challenge. But I am learning, and I thank you for being willing to help."

"Chuck, turn on the device, set the power to max, and turn the dial up to ten."

Chuck complied, and touched the unit to his hand. Instinctively, his hand jerked away. He did it again, and forced himself to keep the hand in contact with the unit for several seconds.

"Wow! You guys are pretty serious about this!"

"Yes, we are." Young smiled.

Spock went on. "Chuck, I recall an occasion not too long ago when you were concerned about having inflicted pain on Captain Kirk. Is that likely to be a concern here as well?"

"Well, I've learned a thing or two since then, so I don't think so. But I'll let you know if it's a problem."

"Very well then. Please touch Captain Young's skin with the device, and do not stop until I tell you to. Report any pain-related behavior you observe, and advise me at once if the Captain loses consciousness."

Chuck began, and Young just smiled at him. No jerks, twitches, nothing. If Chuck hadn't just tested the thing on himself, he would have wondered if it was working. Some ten minutes later, Young spoke.

"Spock, he's being too nice. He hasn't done anything yet that you couldn't have done. He's hardly strayed off my chest."

"Chuck, imagine this is an enemy whose secrets you must have. Torture him until he breaks."

"This would be easier if he'd stop smiling at me."

"Captain, close your eyes."

Chuck altered his attack to include face, hands, feet, even his antennae. Young's control wasn't perfect; he occasionally shuddered. Chuck picked up his speed, and Young's control cracked some more. After thirty minutes, Spock moved Young off the bed. He knelt on the floor with his arms raised, elbows bent, hands up. By no means a relaxed position, Young's control was drastically reduced. Chuck worked him over for another half hour. Young shook almost constantly. As time went on, he jerked with every touch. By the time Spock called a halt, Young was rigid with tension. Had it gone on much longer, he might have even been screaming and clawing the floor.

Young rose, put the device away, and sat on the bed.

"Report," Spock ordered.

"Control needs a lot of work, but no sign of losing consciousness. And you were right, Spock, it's very different with someone else doing it."

"Chuck, anything to add?"

"My impression was that he was close to losing control completely."

"I was, but that's major progress. To be able to feel that much pain without retreating into unconsciousness is more than I could have done when we began."

They did it again each night that week. Young got so he could take whatever Chuck dished out without any visible response. So they thanked him for his help, and said they would be pursuing another area of experimentation that wouldn't require assistance. Chuck didn't ask what that might be. And the sessions in the gym continued without interruption or change.

xxxx

One morning Sullivan announced that the response to his report had not been favorable. The panel was instructed to remain another three months. The higher-ups wanted concrete evidence. And 'no' was apparently not an acceptable answer.

"How are we supposed to find evidence that isn't there to be found?" Lila wanted to know.

"I don't know," Sullivan replied. "But I'll tell you this. We're not going to make it up out of thin air. If it's here, we'll find it; if it's not, we won't. My superior thinks their behavior may change if we hang around long enough. I got the impression he thought they could fake it for three months, but not six. So we'll see."

xxxx

The next week, Chuck made an internal decision. He scheduled a late-night meeting with Spock. This time, Spock came to Chuck's quarters.

"Come in, Spock. Thanks for agreeing to see me at such a late hour."

"It is not a problem. I have no other commitments this evening."

"How is your work with Young coming along?" Chuck asked.

"He continues to make progress. He is an exceptional student."

"And the sessions in the gym?"

"Getting closer. On several occasions recently, I have sensed his presence, but not soon enough. I must know what he will do before he does it," Spock declared.

"My impression is that the two of you are developing quite a close friendship."

"Yes, we are. It has been easier than I expected."

"You told Kirk you were going to. Spock-" pause, "how long has it been? He couldn't still be alive."

"Captain Kirk has been in the hands of the Klingons for over two months. I do not know how he has survived, but I know he is alive."

Chuck shook his head. "Spock, I want to believe you, but how can you know?"

"Due to our long association and frequent mind-melds, I can sense his existence from long distances. More than once, over the years, I have heard him call for help. I am certain I would sense his death. I would also sense it if he were in great emotional stress. Fourteen days after his capture, I felt his mind stripped, probably by the mindsifter. I expected to feel him die. But within a few hours, his mind was restored. Seven days later, it happened again. That time his mind was not restored for a week. On neither occasion was he emotionally distressed. And nothing since then has distressed him. Does this detail help you to believe that Jim is alive?"

"Yes, thank you, it does." He gestured Spock to the desk chair, while he returned to the bunk. "But this is not why I wanted to talk with you. Are you aware the panel has been ordered to spend another three months?"

"Lt. C'dre Sullivan made the announcement in the officers' meeting last week."

"I had been holding off pursuing this with you, because the panel members were instructed to remain as neutral as possible. But I'm done remaining neutral. Kirk showed me the power of God in his jail cell. You shared with me your conversation with God three months ago. I didn't tell you at the time, but listening to you pray, I wanted to know the person you were talking to. So, I don't know if it's possible, but I want you to tell me what I can do to get what you have - and I'm not talking about the power, though that's spectacular. I'm talking about the relationship."

That night, Spock led Chuck to the Lord.

xxxx

For the next week, Chuck was higher than a kite. He went around with a silly grin on his face all the time, and he didn't care who knew he was now a Christian, including Sullivan.

"Sir, I don't care what you do to me. I'm now a Christian, and you can't take it away from me. If that disqualifies me as an observer, so be it."

Sullivan sighed. "No, Chuck, I'm not happy about it, mind you, but Sam and Gliff are both ahead of you. If it gets Lila too, I wouldn't have anybody left."

"You could try it yourself, sir. I'm telling you, it's the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me. I'm sorry Starfleet is scared of it, but it's going to spread, no matter what they do."

xxxx

Chuck was baptized two weeks later, along with thirty others. It was the first such since Kirk had left. The others gathered there felt his absence much more keenly than Chuck did. Scotty officiated.

"Will those desiring baptism please join me in the water? Spock, I'd be pleased if ye'd assist me."

Chuck jumped into the pool next to Sam. Gliff was over by the steps. Tellarites apparently were not fond of water. Scotty continued as Spock waded out to join him.

"Before we begin, I think it appropriate to honor one who is not amongst us, but to whom we owe so much. Let us have a moment of silence as we remember Captain James T. Kirk."

Spock jumped into the silence. "Captain Kirk is not dead, but even if he were, he would not want you to mourn. This is a day for rejoicing. If he could, he would tell you to laugh - enjoy yourselves. Have a wonderfully joyous time!"

And Spock deliberately splashed water all over Scotty.

"Spock! I'll git ye fer that!" And Scotty splashed him back.

Spock pushed him over, then allowed Scotty to dunk him. Some watched horrified that such a serious occasion should be treated so lightly by those in charge. Chuck just laughed with delight. Sulu and Uhura did too. Chekov was on the Bridge. Sullivan watched with stony face.

Scotty calmed down and addressed himself to the baptisms. But Spock had succeeded in dispelling the gloom in the atmosphere. Chuck was impressed. When it was Chuck's turn, he found that it was a highly emotional experience. He laughed; he cried; he babbled; he felt drunk. It was a good thing he didn't have to be coherent, except for answering the questions with a very loud 'yes.'

Afterwards there was a free-for-all in the pool. With wall-to-wall bodies, nobody was swimming. The primary entertainment seemed to be dunking the newly baptized. Typically someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him over backwards. Sometimes they held him under for several seconds before allowing him to surface. Chuck never resisted and always came up laughing. Spock and Sulu each got him three times. Uhura thought they were being too mean.

"You guys knock it off! And stop holding him under! You're making me nervous!"

"Aw, c'mon," Sulu replied. "We're just havin' fun!"

Chuck was dunked again, this time by Scotty. He came up laughing again, and looked at Uhura.

"I don't mind, really. It's fun! They can dunk me as many times as they want. As initiation hazing, this is easy!"

"Is that what you think this is?"

"Isn't it?"

"I guess it is; I just never thought of it in those terms. Captain Kirk started the tradition. That first time, he dunked everybody he could get his hands on. We finally ganged up on him, and dunked him twenty times in a row. He was laughing so much, he took in a lot of water. Dr. McCoy finally made us stop; said we were drowning him. The Captain didn't care; he was still laughing."

"I know exactly how he felt. Right now, you could do anything to me, and I would laugh."

So they dunked him a few more times, just for fun.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Kirk had lost all track of time. He knew there had been another branding, so they were somewhere in the second month, and mindsifter time could be imminent. But he hardly thought about it; he was exhausted all the time. It seemed as if he spent two or three times as much time with Koh as with Konti, but he didn't try to keep track. Nor did he notice how many times Koh had been to Konti's house. He was too tired, and it didn't matter anyway. Kirk would maintain cooperation whether or not Koh kept his side of the bargain.

Konti took to planning evenings of doing rather than talking. One night they were playing cards and Kirk was falling asleep. Every few minutes, he would slap his face, or stand up and do a few jumping jacks. Finally Konti couldn't stand it any more.

"Kirk, this is ridiculous! Why don't you just rest? I'll tell you when it's time to go."

"No sleep. Only Koh decides when I can sleep."

"But you have no idea what cards you just played!"

"I don't care who wins; just play." Kirk gestured irritably at the cards. "Please, Konti."

"No. You are a very stubborn man, Kirk."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"All right, you want to stay awake. I will undoubtedly regret this, but I'm going to help you stay awake. Come with me."

He rose and went to the back room. Kirk stumbled after him, thinking he knew what Konti intended. The most frequently used item stored in that room was the whip.

"Even that's not going to keep me awake tonight, but you're welcome to try."

"Oh, what I have in mind will keep you awake all right. Absolutely guaranteed. I've been planning it for some time; just didn't know when to spring it on you. And you're not going to like this, so how desperate are you?"

"I'm to the point that I'm going to sleep through whatever Koh has planned for the night, but I would like to walk there, not have to be carried because I'm already asleep. So yes, I'm pretty desperate."

If Kirk's brain hadn't been so foggy, he might have seen it coming. As it was, he was completely shocked. Konti began shedding clothes as he talked.

"I have been trying to understand what makes you tick. How you do the things you do, and why. It came to me suddenly that if I would understand you, I must do the things you do. So-"

He was now completely undressed. Reaching for the whip, he brought it to Kirk.

"You will take this whip and give me forty lashes."

Kirk was instantly wide awake.

"No!" He gulped. "I can't."

Kirk was visibly shaking, and Konti didn't think it was an act. He hated to do this when Kirk was already exhausted, but he was committed now. He knew he couldn't force Kirk, but if he did it right, Kirk would force himself. He made his voice drip with contempt.

"Can't? or won't?"

"Can't. I've never used a whip in my life."

Konti laughed. "Finesse takes practice, but the basic skill is easy. This is the handle. Here, take it."

But Kirk wouldn't. He looked bleakly into Konti's eyes.

"The truth is I'm appalled at the idea of hurting you. Konti, please don't make me do this, I beg you."

The look in Kirk's eyes almost made Konti give in. But no, Kirk would not have given in, so Konti wouldn't either.

"Now you know how I feel every time you get me into one of those situations where I have to treat you like a disobedient slave. So you will do this. I am your master, and you will do as you're told, because you are an obedient slave. Forty lashes, non-stop, regardless of whether I can hide pain as well as you can. Now, take this!"

He again held the whip handle out to Kirk. Slowly Kirk took the whip, clearly still very loathe to do so. But Konti could read in Kirk's eyes that he had won. Kirk would do it, hating every minute, but doing it nonetheless.

Konti backed into the center of the room and waited for Kirk. He wondered what the lash would feel like. He also wondered whether he could hold himself completely still the way Kirk did. But mostly he watched Kirk and wondered what he felt.

Kirk forced himself not to feel anything. If he was going to accomplish this, he would have to concentrate on doing, not feeling. He flicked the lash a few times, testing the feel and the reach. Then he walked around behind Konti, who, he noted in passing, was standing much too rigidly.

Kirk gauged his trajectory and distance and let fly with the first lash. Konti gasped. A thin line appeared on his back. Kirk delivered the second lash. No gasp, but a definite flinching. The second angry welt on the back. This is going to be absolutely awful, thought Kirk. Forcing himself to ignore the reactions, Kirk stepped up the pace, with an eye towards getting it over with as quickly as possible.

Konti fell to his knees on the twenty-fifth stroke, which was longer than Kirk had thought he would last. He paused only long enough to adjust his direction, then continued to press through to completion. By the time he reached forty strokes, Konti was flat on the floor, with clenched fists pounding the floor above his head.

Kirk threw the whip into a corner and stared down at Konti's raw backside. Pink blood had obscured many of the actual lash marks, but his entire backside was a criss-cross of angry welts. Kirk did not have to imagine what it felt like, but this was the first time he had seen what it looked like. No wonder Konti hated this. He had had no idea.

He sat on the floor and waited for Konti to recover. As he waited, reaction set in, and he began to shake uncontrollably. His mind relived the entire sequence three times before Konti stirred.

Konti slowly and painfully got to his knees, realized Kirk was sitting next to him, and gingerly sat facing Kirk.

"Thank you."

Kirk was deeply moved. Tears streaming down his face, he looked at Konti.

"I hope you never, ever, force me to do that again."

"Kirk, do you remember what I said to you when we first began this master-slave business? The only one who has mastery over you is you. I didn't force you to do this; you did."

Kirk didn't deny it. "Yes, well, whatever. Never again."

"Why not? You endure this day in and day out, and apparently think nothing of it."

"That's different."

"Why?"

"Because I'm used to it, and you're not."

"That could be fixed."

"Oh, no, you're not getting me to agree to that - absolutely not!"

Kirk was so adamant that Konti didn't press it, at least not then.

Later, when Kirk arrived at Koh's lab, he reported that he was running on adrenalin, but when it wore off, he would crash hard. Then he asked an odd question.

"Koh, do Klingons have more nerve endings in the skin than humans, or fewer?"

"Depends which part of the skin, but generally fewer. Why? Did Konti make you do what he's been threatening?"

"I didn't know he'd been threatening, but right now, his backside is pretty sore. You might check on him later tonight if you get a chance."

"You want to tell me about it?"

So Kirk did, with complete transparency.

"Now that you've found something I really don't want to do, I suppose you'll badger me with it constantly."

"I won't have to. Konti will do it for me."

Sure enough, every night for days, Konti managed to bring up the subject in one way or another. Kirk refused to discuss it. As soon as he recognized the drift of Konti's remarks, he cut him off with an 'absolutely not' or 'out of the question' or 'I'm not even going to discuss it.' Konti was hurt and frustrated, but persistent. By the fifth day, Kirk realized that it was negatively affecting their entire relationship. That night in his walk to the lab, he had it out with the Lord, repented of his bad attitude, and resolved to make it right with Konti. He prayed for grace and strength to face and endure what he did not want to do.

The next evening, he approached Konti as soon as they arrived at home.

"Konti, may I talk with you before the evening activity?"

"Of course. Sit down."

They sat as was their custom, Kirk on the floor and Konti in the chair.

"Konti, I owe you an apology for my behavior and bad attitude this week. I have hurt you emotionally and damaged our relationship by refusing to consider what you would like for me to do. I ask your forgiveness, and if you are willing, I'd like to repair the damage."

"What is forgiveness? Does this mean you've changed your mind?"

"For starters, I'll stop refusing to discuss it. Forgiveness is laying aside the hurt and refusing to let it interfere with our relationship in the future."

"I can't say as I understand that, but if you've changed your mind, I think that's wonderful. He said you would if I kept asking. How did he know?"

"Who, Koh? He probably didn't. He's just using you to torture me."

"Koh wouldn't do that!"

"He wouldn't? Opinions differ. But don't hold it against him. He can't resist the opportunity to exploit something I really don't want to do."

"But how does he know?" Konti asked curiously.

"I told him."

"You _told_ him?"

"Sure. I tell him almost everything. It's part of the deal. He knows me inside and out. Anyway, tell me again, what is it you want me to do?"

"I want you to teach me how you deal with pain."

"All right. When?"

"You mean it? You really will? Now? I didn't think you would ever go there again. You said, 'never again' and you meant it. I believed you."

"I should learn not to say 'never'. Yes, I really will do this. Now, if you like."

"Yes, now, please."

They rose and went into the back room.

"First you must understand this isn't something you can learn in one day. There is knowledge, yes, but it is largely a skill that requires practice. I have no way of knowing how much. Secondly, if I am to teach you, you must be able to learn from me. We have been master and slave; can we be student and teacher? If you wish me to teach you, please leave your garments at the door and come, sit facing me."

So Kirk taught Konti what he knew about pain. Every night for the next week, they spent an hour in the back room practicing. At first Kirk used his finger instead of the whip. When Konti could keep from reacting to the touch of his finger, Kirk began using the whip, one lash at a time. By the end of the week, Konti could hold still for one lash, maybe two, but more than that only if they were spaced far enough apart.

That evening Koh arrived for his usual session in Konti's home.

"Well, how is your pet project coming? Does your back need medication?"

"Miserably slow, and I won't stoop to using medication. You don't offer anesthetic to Kirk, do you?"

"Of course not. It'd ruin the experiments."

"If you ever want to feel inept, try learning this. I've never felt so - so - so stupid! in my life before. I just can't get it! And Kirk? Look at him! Sitting there relaxed and content. You'd never know there was a thing wrong unless you looked at his back."

"Hm.. That's quite a crop of welts he's got there. What happened?"

"This afternoon he maneuvered me into a situation where I had to give him sixty lashes. He does it about once a week, unless you've got him so exhausted he has no idea what day it is. Then he does it every chance he gets. He thinks it makes his slave status more secure, and it probably does. But I hate doing it, he knows I hate doing it, he would hate doing it, but he doesn't hate me for doing it to him. And it doesn't stop him from engineering a new one time after time after time.

"These last couple have been worse, because now I know what it feels like. He just takes it as if it's nothing! I can feel him smiling at me, though I can't see his face. He's thinking, 'Come on, Konti, you can do it. Come through for me one more time.' Then we get home, and I can't manage to hold still for three lashes, much less sixty! I'm telling you, Koh, I don't know how much more of this I can take!"

"You mean, you're ready to kill him?"

"Koh! Don't even mention that word. You know I dread the day."

Konti sat heavily and put his face in his hands, the picture of despair.

Koh turned to Kirk. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Kirk grinned. "Guilty as charged, on all counts. But you know that."

He rose and went to Konti, kneeling at his feet.

"Konti, look at me. I agreed to teach you because you so desperately wanted to know, not because you have to be able to do this in order to be my equal. Your worth in my eyes will neither increase nor decrease based on your ability or inability to do this. Furthermore, you will never succeed at this as long as you are tying your self-worth to your performance. Do you believe that I value you as a person regardless of how you handle pain?"

Konti slowly nodded his head.

"Good." Kirk sat back down on the floor.

"But, I still-"

"Okay, let's look at this objectively. You've been working at this an hour a day for a week. You've made significant progress. Rome wasn't built in a day."

"What?"

"Old Terran proverb. Means be patient; these things take time."

"How long did it take you?"

"Now that's an interesting question. I'm sure somewhere in those lost thirty years of memories was a fair amount of experience with pain management. That first branding ceremony was before I lost my memory. There was no doubt in my mind that I could hold still. The only way I could have been certain was if I had been there many times before.

"But I don't remember those experiences. Everything I've told you, I learned - or relearned - that first week aboard your ship. But I had a crash course, and I don't recommend it."

"What do you mean?"

"Between Khlat's whip - by the way, where is he? I haven't seen him for weeks."

"He works mornings when you aren't here. I find it easier to deal with him that way. He hates you so."

"He's jealous, because you like me. I wish there was something I could do, but there probably isn't. Anyway, between Khlat and Koh, I was blessed with non-stop pain for days on end. By the way, Khlat was easy compared to what Koh dished out. So it was sink or swim. I learned to swim fast, out of self-preservation."

"Konti, I never saw such a fast learner before. Every new thing I throw at him, it takes him between thirty seconds and five minutes to figure it out. After that, I get nothing but cool-as-a-cucumber, relaxed, casual conversation. So just because he can teach himself pain management in a matter of days, doesn't mean you should expect to be able to."

"A crash course - Hmm..." Konti looked thoughtful. "Koh, do you have room in that lab for two?"

"Konti, no! You don't know what you're asking for. Remember how surprised you were at the intensity of forty lashes? Imagine that multiplied ten times and continuing for hours upon hours, which stretch into days. You lose all track of time, almost all sense of reality. Nothing exists except the agony. Konti, believe me, you don't want to go there. It's not worth it," Kirk insisted adamantly.

"Then why do you do it?"

"I have no choice."

"Yes, you do. You choose it every night. You set it up that way. Why?"

Kirk chuckled. "It was a joke, really. I wanted to know if they would risk losing me in order to increase the psychological stress."

"And does it?"

"Of course not. I don't dread Koh's lab. Escape was never part of my thinking. I enjoy the solitude of a long walk is all."

"Konti," Koh interrupted, "If you're really serious about this, I think I can fix it with Korn to call it active duty. However, several warnings and conditions: If you walk into my lab, you put up with whatever is done to you. I personally don't care how you handle the pain, or even if you do, but you don't pull rank on me, and you don't report it to Korn. Also you don't decide part way through that you've had enough and leave. If you're in, you stay for the duration. And I don't lock the door. The only thing I guarantee is no permanent physical damage that I can't fix. Anything else is fair game. And I make no promises about psychological damage.

"Now here's how I will fix it with Korn. My objective is to break Kirk. Nothing I have done to him bothers him for more than a few minutes. The only thing he has raised an objection to is hurting you."

"No!" Kirk abruptly got to his feet, very agitated, and strode to the far end of the room. Konti looked at the criss-cross of welts on Kirk's back, and turned his attention back to Koh.

"You would be aiding the cause of the State by contributing to the interrogation of the prisoner. I'll talk to Korn tomorrow. We could even start tomorrow night. Since branding is also tomorrow, I can have you up to four weeks if I want."

"Four weeks! That's crazy! Konti, say no. Trust me, you don't want to do this!"

"See how vigorously he objects?" Koh mocked.

"Koh, it's not fair! You're using him! You're not even telling him the truth! Yes, I will hate it; will I do it anyway? Probably, if he asks me to. Will it break me? No. There's nothing to be gained anyway. I have no Federation secrets, and you know it!

"And what does he get out of it? A battered body, and a broken soul! Koh, you and I both know this is nothing more than another of your psychological games. I'll cheerfully play your games as long as you like, but leave Konti out of it!"

"Kirk, I have never before seen you angry."

Kirk stared for a moment, then turned his back and seethed in silence. Koh rose to go.

"Konti, think about it and let me know in the morning. Kirk, I'll see you tonight."

After Koh left, Kirk turned and returned to the floor in front of Konti. But he said nothing, his countenance again quiet.

"You're angry."

"I was, yes."

"You don't want me to do this."

"No, I don't. I think the risk to your soul is higher than the potential benefit. But I can't make this decision for you. Nor will I be angry if you don't take my advice."

"You won't? You're angry with Koh."

"Because he's using you. You want to conquer pain. He wants to make me uncomfortable. He hopes you can't control yourself, because the more out-of-control you are, the more uncomfortable I am."

"You don't care what he does to you, but you get angry if he does it to me. Why?"

Kirk didn't answer immediately.

"It's because you can handle it, and you think I can't."

"No, that's not it. It isn't a question of whether you can handle it, but whether he has the right to do it to you."

"He has the right to batter you? Physically and emotionally?"

"Yes, of course. Korn gave it to him. So did you. I have no rights. I am a slave."

"Don't start that again."

"Konti, you observed at the beginning that the slave-master issue was a game to me. One of the best coping mechanisms I know is to treat anything unpleasant as a game. Games have no power to make me angry. The game I am playing with Koh goes one step better. Since I tell him everything, we are playing on the same team."

"So you're angry because he doesn't have a right to batter me. But I can give him that right."

"Yes, you can," Kirk admitted reluctantly.

"Kirk, I have known Koh a long time. We are very close friends. I would trust him with my life, and have done so more than once. I am sorry you are angry, but I do not see this as you do. Koh is not using me, or if he is, that is a secondary benefit. He knows I want to do this, and he knows why. He is creating a way to explain it to Korn that will not get me in trouble. I would have said he is using you to help me."

"If you are very sure he values your best interest above other considerations, then I withdraw the complaint, and I will apologize to him for my anger."

"I am sure. Now there are things about tomorrow we need to discuss."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Kirk had not known it was branding day, but considered it a small matter. However it transpired that Konti wished to make it a very big deal. He had planned a large dinner party - twelve guests - and Kirk was to prepare and serve the meal single-handedly.

"This will not be like that first fiasco, nor will you pull any of your purposeful disobedience. You will be the competent and efficient worker I know you are, and you will give me a perfect performance. No mistakes, no accidents, everything done right.

"At the close of the meal, after the last dish has been cleared, we will have the branding ceremony. Your only task after that will be to fetch wraps, which I trust you can do one-handed."

"Why? Are you going to cut off an arm?"

"No, nothing so drastic. This is the three-month anniversary of your captivity. Normally this is not done for at least a year, often not for many years. It is considered a mark of honor. It is voluntary, but I do not know of any slave who has refused the honor. In effect, what it signifies is that the master trusts the slave with his life. Any slave bearing this mark has free run of the city, and is not questioned regarding his master's business.

"After we complete the usual branding, I ask for your left hand. You hold it out to me, palm up. I see that your palm contains no one else's brand. (This honor cannot be awarded a slave that has been sold.) Then I pick up the branding iron again, holding it vertically with the live end over your palm. You raise your hand to meet the branding iron, holding it in place for the required time period."

"Which is?"

Konti swallowed. "Ten minutes. This brand is only done once. It has to last a life-time."

"You expect to be able to hold it still for ten minutes?"

"I won't have to. Once its weight is resting on you, I only keep it upright; you hold it still."

"Okay. Who keeps time?"

"Koh will assist, as he has for the last two. But there's more. After I put the branding iron away for the second time, I draw my knife again. At this point, the guests will gasp and be appalled, but they will not dare to protest. This that I am about to describe is never done with the first hand, and only rarely with the second.

"I will offer you the knife, which you will take with the right hand. You will rise, and make a diagonal cut in the center of my forehead, at least an inch long. And don't forget to turn the knife in the wound so as to leave a visible scar."

"An inch-long head wound is going to bleed profusely, not like those tiny ones you give me."

"I am aware of that. Koh will be prepared."

"Konti, if this is never done, why are you doing it?"

"This action is performed by a slave who has suffered much for the master's sake, one to whom the master owes a debt he cannot pay. Perhaps the slave has saved the master's life. In any event, it is an action of the utmost trust, and actions speak louder than words."

"Konti, I am indeed honored that you trust me this much, but you do not owe me anything, nor have I saved your life."

"But you have suffered a great deal."

"I have suffered for my disobedience, rebellion, and carelessness, all much deserved."

"That's nonsense and you know it."

"But they don't. This does not fit the picture we have created."

"I'm changing the picture. No more public beatings."

"I wish you would reconsider. I know you don't like doing it, but it's safer."

"Don't like is an understatement! But what do you mean by safer?"

"As long as I am seen as a somewhat inept slave, who is definitely a slow learner, and can't even manage to avoid regular public beatings, then I am a threat to nobody. You are exercising good discipline, and I am getting what I deserve. If you suddenly elevate me to the status of utmost trusted slave, they will not believe you. They will think I have somehow tricked you, and will use this elevated status to further my own devious and subversive goals.

"I will do the dinner without mistakes if you insist, though it is a tempting audience. But I strongly advise against the rest of it."

"Does that mean you will refuse the honor?"

"No, but I would rather you didn't offer it. I will agree to gradually reduce the frequency of public beatings, so they will believe I am finally getting it, slowly."

"Very well, I see your point about the suddenness of it. I wanted them to see what I see in you, especially before they finish that new mindsifter. But you're telling me they wouldn't see it, no matter what I say or do." Konti cracked his knuckles in frustration.

"That's right. It is sufficient to me that you see it. Konti, it means a great deal to me to have your trust. Would a private ceremony have any meaning for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Here and now, just you and me. No one but us would know we did it. Couldn't do the hand-branding of course. But I would be willing to take your knife and inflict a wound where no one would see it, and no questions would be asked. But only if such an action would have meaning for you."

"It would. The belly I think. And make it a cross. However it would have more meaning if we arranged it such that you could actually kill me. I have wondered how you felt waking up to find me poised over you with a knife."

Kirk laughed. "That's different. You were actually going to do it. As I recall, my chief thought concerned how to avoid startling you. As it was, you dropped the knife. Anyway, I think I understand what you're getting at. I recommend the back room, however, rather than the bed. More room to move, and we don't have to worry about blood stains."

They stood facing each other in the back room. Konti had left his garments at the door, but kept the knife.

"This is not teacher-student, nor even slave-master. We are just Kirk and Konti, no more, no less. Are you certain you want to do this?"

"No, I'm not. I thought I was, but now I hear voices, some screaming, some whispering, all telling me that you are a warrior, a tiger, an enemy."

"The voices will get worse after you give me the knife, especially if I do what you want: make you think I might actually kill you. The decision to trust can be difficult, because you cannot know for certain what I will do. But remember this: I am a warrior; I am also an actor. Konti, I ask you to believe that I am _not_ your enemy."

Konti slowly extended the knife to Kirk, who took it just as slowly. Once he had it however, Kirk dropped into a warrior's crouch. Konti instinctively did likewise, but after a moment slowly stood erect, refusing to try to defend himself. Kirk made a complete circle around Konti and moved in close, bringing the knife point under Konti's chin. Konti stood rigidly immobile, staring straight ahead, not looking at Kirk.

Kirk trailed the knife down Konti's chest to his belly. He drew back the knife hand as if to plunge it home. He even started the plunge. Konti gasped, but remained unmoving. Mid-stroke, Kirk altered his speed to a crawl, and carefully carved a shallow 'X' onto Konti's belly. Then he stepped back and stood quietly, waiting for Konti to recover. Konti's eyes gradually focused on Kirk's face and saw him smile warmly.

"What are the voices saying now?"

"Absolutely speechless. You really could have killed me!"

"Yes; well, possibly. That's what you wanted - for me to set it up so all you could do was cling to your belief that I wouldn't. And you did well. I'm impressed."

"Not as well as you would. You'd have been relaxed, confident, and smiling."

"I wish you'd stop comparing yourself to me. The situation is entirely different. I do expect you to kill me with this knife some day, but I don't expect you to tease me about it."

He handed the knife back to Konti, and they moved toward the door.

"Anyway, do you trust me more now than before, or less?"

Konti stopped abruptly, as if he thought the question odd.

"More, definitely."

"That's good then."

xxxx

The branding party went well. Kirk made no mistakes, but managed to give the impression that he was about to, all evening long. _I will never doubt his acting skill_, thought Konti.

The branding itself was equally uneventful. Kirk was glad to keep his hands securely under him. Konti did not offer the honors he had threatened to.

The only unusual occurrence of the evening was an encounter with one of the guests. Kirk had sensed hostility from several of them, but not this one. Kezak was only curious, he thought. Most of the guests had gone when Kezak asked to speak with him privately. Kirk told him that Konti would have to give permission. Expecting Konti to refuse, Kirk was surprised to hear him offer his bedroom for a conference.

Kirk led the way, offered Kezak the only chair, and shut the door. He stood in the center of the room, facing Kezak, eyes lowered. Suddenly Kezak spoke.

"Be a warrior, five seconds."

"Sir?" Kirk did not even look up, but he was alarmed, and hoped it didn't show.

Kezak was impatient. "Show me a warrior; just a five-second impression."

"Sir, I am a slave, not a warrior. I do not know what you want of me."

Kezak laughed. "Captain Kirk, I know who you are, both what you have been, and what you purport to be now. I even know what Koh does to you at night, and I have watched you walk from here to there."

"You are well-informed, sir. Perhaps if you explained your purpose, I would know better how Konti would like for me to help you."

Kezak laughed again. "You're good, very good. Konti told me I wouldn't crack it if you didn't trust me. Look, I'm not a spy for the State. Nothing you show me will get back to Korn and his goons. Konti told me you were an actor. I want to see how good you are."

"Perhaps if you explained the context of this conversation about acting, I would know Konti's wishes in the matter."

"It was a private conversation at the club. I was enumerating some incongruities in your behavior, and he told me about that fiasco of a dinner party you engineered. I didn't believe him, so he told me how you maneuver him into a public beating once a week. He even told me why you do it. I was still skeptical, so he invited me to see for myself."

Kirk was thinking that Konti talked too much, but all he said was, "Konti wishes for me to show you what, exactly?"

"I want to see you act. Show me how you would portray a warrior."

So Kirk did a very clumsy, unrealistic image of a warrior.

"Um, how about a starship captain?"

An equally bad rendition. Kezak threw out half a dozen more widely varied characters, which Kirk did progressively worse at, as he became more nervous and confused. Finally Kezak applauded, laughing.

"Superb, absolutely astounding! Well, you don't trust me, and I don't blame you. It's too bad you're not for sale. I could make a pile off you." He rose to depart.

"I'm sure you would need to discuss that with Konti, sir."

Kezak left in the company of Korn, still chuckling. Kirk was indeed disturbed. Only an expert could tell the difference between bad acting and a good actor giving a performance of bad acting. But one look at Konti told him now was not the time to discuss Kezak. Besides, he needed to leave himself in a few minutes.

"Konti, you look troubled. Did something not go right about the evening?"

"No, it was fine. You were great."

His mind was clearly elsewhere.

"What then? Konti, how can I help?"

Konti looked up bleakly.

"Kirk, I wouldn't tell anyone else this, but I'm scared stiff. Koh talked to Korn. It's all set up. We start tonight - in one hour in fact. I don't think I can face this, but I have to try. It's not the pain I'm afraid of. What am I saying! Yes, it is! But it's not just that. I'm afraid I can't do this! Kirk, I don't know how you face it night after night. But maybe it's easy for you."

"No, it's never easy. Easier, maybe, because it's familiar. Konti, every time I climb those steps, I wonder if Koh has managed to come up with something I really can't stand. So far, the answer is 'no', but I never stop wondering.

"Konti, I want to help you through this, encourage you, support you, even just be there with you. But when we get in there, Koh calls the shots. If he separates us, I won't protest. That's why it's so important that he be on your side.

"If he tortures you just for the fun of seeing you crack, he'll have found something I can't stand. That's why I'm angry that he's willing to use you to get me. If you're right, and he's really doing this for you, then I'll cheerfully do anything he tells me to, including hurt you. So tell me again. How much do you trust Koh?"

Konti straightened his back. "With my life, Kirk, I swear it."

"Okay, then. I will too. I choose to trust him with your life and your soul, because you do. Would you object if I pray for us before I go?"

"Pray?"

"Talk to God. Ask for His help."

"I'll take all the help I can get."

"Lord Jesus, we need Your help, especially in these next hours and days. We don't know exactly what we're facing, but we do know it will be difficult and painful. Help us to endure, to weather the storm with our souls intact. Lord, I would like for our relationship to survive this ordeal. But most important, I want Konti to come out of this a stronger and more whole person than when he goes in. Lastly, Lord, I ask You to help Koh. His job is difficult, made more than doubly so with two of us. Give him Your wisdom, Lord, that his path may be clear. Help him know what to do for Konti, and protect their relationship from any harm."

Kirk rose to go. "Konti, one other thing. Who is Kezak?"

"The guy you talked to in the other room. He certainly was amused when he left."

"Do you trust him?"

"Up to a point. Why?"

"Would he be likely to go to Korn or anyone else in authority with information about you or me?"

"No. Highly unlikely. Why do you ask?"

"He implied that he had information about me that you would not have shared with a casual acquaintance. But he did not actually say anything that was not either public knowledge or guesswork. He was goading me into dropping the slave character, and highly amused when I refused to do so. I am still unsure what he really wanted."

"Probably wants to steal you. But don't worry. He won't."

"Steal me? What for?" Kirk asked, confused. "He didn't strike me as being in the same league as Kadat."

"Heavens, no! Kezak is a highly successful talent master. He manages people with unusual talents - puts on shows. It's big business. He makes lots of money."

"Oh. He wanted to see me act. So I gave him the most awful renditions of characters, and he saw through the whole thing. Knew exactly what I was doing and why. But if you think he's harmless, maybe we can forget about it."

"He won't forget. He'll be back. But I'll talk to him."

"All right, then. I'll see you at the lab."

xxxx

Konti was in the monitoring room with Koh when Kirk arrived. He calmly walked into Room A, briefly glanced at the contents of the room, and began attaching the footpads to the bottoms of his feet.

"Good evening, Koh. I trust you had a restful day. It's a might nippy out tonight. I'd guess the temperature's a good five degrees colder than last night."

Koh did not respond, and Kirk continued attaching wires to his skin. It was clear he had done this many times. He began testing before he was finished attaching them.

"Testing 1, 2, 3..." And on up to 30. He finished attaching and testing at the same time. Walking over to the near wall, he thrust his left arm through a hole into the monitoring room. Koh swiftly inserted an IV needle. Kirk removed that arm and pushed the right arm in for the same treatment. Then he walked over to a tray containing several hypos.

"You going to tell me what's in these, or wait for me to find out?"

Silence.

Kirk picked up each of the hypos in turn and gave himself the injections. Then he turned to face the monitoring room.

"Now what? Am I staying here long enough to bother plugging in the IV's?"

Koh did not reply, but pressed a few buttons and turned a dial.

"You're being very considerate tonight. I can sleep through this. I'd say definitely under 50, maybe 40 or 45."

Konti glanced at the dial, which stood at 42. Kirk plugged in the IV's, lay down on the padded table he used for a bed, and within minutes, was sound asleep.

Koh turned to Konti. "Any questions, so far?"

"Was that a lucky guess, or can he really tell the difference between 40 and 50?"

"If he's not exhausted, he's very accurate. The more exhausted, the more flippant and obnoxious his feedback, also the more jokes. If he's just quietly cooperative like tonight, he's got lots of reserves."

"What about the silent treatment? He talks as if he expects you to answer, but he doesn't seem the least bothered when you don't."

"Some nights we keep up a running conversation all night long, especially when I really don't want him to sleep. Other nights he gets nothing but silence. He usually wears the head device that shuts out light and sound, but I've left it off, and I'm sure he knows it's because of you. Anyway, I can give him all the instructions he needs through the wires.

"One night I had him running in circles all over this lab. For hours, I changed his instructions every few minutes. Then just for fun, I garbled all the instructions, so he had no idea what I wanted him to do. He laughed."

"That's what he doesn't want you to do to me - that 'just for fun' part."

"Yes, I suppose so. But I don't mind him thinking I will. That was quite a sight, watching him get angry. You'd think he was a mother bear protecting her cubs."

"I may have ruined it for you." And Konti shared their conversation about trust.

"So he's going to trust me. That's very interesting. I'd love to play with that. But I won't. Kirk is a passing fancy; you and I are for a lifetime." Koh paused to stare at Konti for a moment, before resuming his constant monitoring of data.

"The thing is, with him, it _is_ fun. He's not laughing on the outside and gritting his teeth on the inside. He genuinely thinks it's funny, and so it is. I remember a night a couple of weeks ago. I laid out six injections for him to take - twice as many as usual. So he's expecting big-time symptoms, and nothing materializes. I had put placebos in every one of those six injections. Took him hours to figure it out, but it came to him all of a sudden. And he started laughing, a deep sustained belly laugh. Kept it up for five minutes. I'm cranking the dial up the whole time. He ends up on the floor, in agony, still chuckling. Only way I would've got him to stop laughing was to knock him out. I can only fool him once though."

"He likes it when you tease him."

"He'd be bored if I didn't. There's nothing very interesting about pain, per se."

"But he doesn't want you to tease me."

"Instinct tells him that for you, it wouldn't be funny."

"It's more than instinct." And he told Koh about the private session with the knife and what Kirk had done.

"Kirk actually did that? He trusts you more than I knew."

"What do you mean? We were dealing with my trust of him, not his of me."

"What would've happened if you had believed he was really going to kill you? He couldn't prove he wasn't; he'd purposely made it look as if he was. It would've ruined everything he's worked so hard for, not to mention, cost him his life, though that seems of little concern to him."

Konti absently ran his thumb along his fingertips. "What do you mean: everything he's worked so hard for?"

"As far as I can see, his number one goal since the day he got here has been to be your friend. I don't profess to understand why, but it's the only thing that adequately explains the things he's done."

"Well, he's succeeded; I do think of him as a friend. That's why I hate those public beatings. It's so unfair!"

"Those beatings are his life insurance. He considers the benefit well worth the cost. The pain is nothing; even the humiliation is nothing."

"The pain is not nothing! When he gave me those forty lashes last week, I ended up on the floor in agony. He manages to act as if it's nothing. I want to know how he does it. That's why I'm here."

"And I want to see him teach you. But I promise not to tease."

"Koh, don't make such promises. I may not think it's funny, but I won't hate you, and I do trust you."

Koh woke Kirk up with three blasts of maximum pain. He sent him to the weight room for an hour by giving him a complex series of pain blasts on the legs. Kirk knew the routine in the weight room well. When he was finished, he gave a succinct verbal report, including, for the record, the fact that when concentrating on the weight workout, he was completely unaware of pain from the wires.

This was not news to Koh, but Konti was surprised. Koh explained that they had experimented with this phenomenon weeks ago. The dial had to be up around 80 before Kirk even noticed the pain during a workout. He could still do the workout anywhere up to 120. After that, his concentration was so divided that he couldn't lift nearly the weight he normally could.

Koh sent Kirk to each of the other rooms in the lab, but only briefly so Konti could get an idea of what they did in each room. Kirk seemed to be aware of Koh's purpose without any words. He gave a running commentary as if he were a tour guide at a museum. Konti was fascinated that it was interspersed with humor and personal transparency.

Kirk returned to Room A, plugged the IV's back in and lay down to sleep. Again within minutes he was sound asleep. Koh began turning up the dial. Konti thought Kirk would wake up. Koh explained that if he started increasing it after Kirk was already asleep, and moved it up slowly enough, Kirk would stay asleep all the way up to 150. If he was awake to begin with, Koh could increase it up to 200 before Kirk lost consciousness. Koh moved the dial up to 150 and left it there. Then he turned and faced Konti.

"Here's your last chance to back out. Kirk's crash course included over three days straight with the dials at the maximum he could tolerate and still remain conscious. The week he spent in the sensory deprivation unit, the dials were at the max non-stop all week long. I've still got the tape of that week. I don't think he mentioned the pain once. He simply didn't think about it. If you want to do the things he does, you're in for a lot of agony, and I mean a lot. You still want to do this?"

"Want isn't exactly the right word, but yes, I will not change my mind. I told Kirk I was scared stiff, and I am, but I _have_ to do this. So let's get on with it."


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

"You brought the whip? Good. Then take it down to Room E, and leave it in the middle of the floor."

When Konti returned, Koh pulled out a tray of wires like Kirk's.

"Leave your clothes in Locker 3 over there. Take this tray into Room A, wake Kirk up, and get him to help you put them on."

Konti complied without a word.

Kirk felt a hand gently shaking his shoulder.

"Hmm, up to 150 and climbing."

He opened his eyes and smiled up at Konti.

"Hello, Konti. I see you're about to join the wires club. It's the latest fashion."

"Do you always joke about this?"

"Yes. If the jokes get too obnoxious, just kick me. Stabilizing at-"

"Let's leave out the numbers, Kirk. What's barely functional for you may be much different than Konti's barely functional."

"Understood."

He slowly got to his feet. Konti watched how slowly he moved. He looked at the monitor window.

"Why do you want him just barely functional?"

"Because he enjoys making my life difficult," Kirk quipped. There was laughter in his tone and no hint of bitterness.

"Is that true, Koh?"

"Yes. But that's not the whole truth." Koh wondered just how transparent Kirk would be. Apparently, very.

"He hopes that if he can keep me just barely functional, that you will settle for the same, regardless of the dial reading."

"That might be true. But for you, just barely functional means you're moving a little slowly. You can converse normally, and there's no hint of pain on your face. I might be able to get off the table, but conversation? I doubt it, and I have no idea how you keep it off your face."

"Well, that's what we're here to practice. Instructions, Koh?"

"Help him get the leads on and tested."

A job that took Kirk less than five minutes now took fifteen, but it was finally done. Konti was visibly nervous.

"Tell me what you fear, right at this moment."

"The hours of agony, I guess."

"You don't have to face hours of agony, only the agony of this moment. Don't think about the hours ahead. Focus all your attention on what's happening right now."

"Nothing's happening right now."

"If it were, could you face one second of agony?"

"One second? Of course; I could stand almost anything that long."

Koh supplied the one second of agony. Konti gasped, stiffened, and grimaced.

"Tell me what that felt like."

"A whole bunch of knives sticking me all at once. And the feet? I can't describe it - fire maybe."

"Good description. Now that you know what it feels like, can you face another second just like that one?"

"I guess so, yes."

Koh gave him another second, and Konti managed to avoid gasping.

"I feel as if I want to rip all these wires off, and rub my skin to assure myself that it's uninjured. Especially the feet. The itching sensation is fierce. How can you just stand there?"

"The itching only comes when the pain stimulus is gone. Do you think you could face ten seconds?"

"I don't know."

"What about it do you fear? What's the worst that could happen?"

"I could scream."

"No one would hear except me and Koh. What else?"

"I might fall down. I might claw at these wires. I might even attack you."

"The floor's not really very far away. The wires may not be indestructible, but I'm sure they're replaceable. And I'm sure I've been attacked before."

"What I'm really afraid of is losing control, of acting like a coward."

"Which is more of a coward: the one who finds a level of pain that he can't stand, or the one who refuses to face the pain for fear of finding out that he can't stand it?"

"The latter, of course. So I will face it, even though I fear it."

Koh turned on the pain for ten very long seconds. Konti held himself rigid, and didn't breathe til it was over. Kirk smiled at him.

"Well, you didn't do any of the things you were afraid of. Could you face another ten seconds?"

"Yes," was Konti's immediate reply.

Shortly thereafter, Kirk had Konti up to thirty-second intervals. But he still wasn't breathing through it. Nor had Kirk even started discussing the need to relax, or the concept of accepting the pain.

"Do you still fear this?"

"Not the way you're doing it, no, but you're spoon-feeding it. What happened to the crash course?"

"I told you, I don't recommend it. Of course it depends on what you're after. If all you want to know is whether you can survive the same thing Koh did to me, then go ahead. But if you want to learn how I do what I do, then the crash course is not the way to go. The only reason it worked for me is because my body already knew what my mind couldn't remember."

"I want to learn from you, so we do it your way."

"Okay then, so you don't fear what we're doing? Which would you fear more: an increase in the length of time, or the intensity?"

"Both. Maybe the intensity more, though it would depend on how long a time."

"We're going to face the intensity first. Thirty-second intervals, but each one five points higher on the dial than the previous one. We'll rest for two minutes between each one, but we're going to keep going up until you pass out. Doesn't matter how out-of-control you get. We're going all the way to the top. I want you to know what the worst feels like. Any questions?"

"You said earlier that Koh would be in charge. It sounds to me as if you're giving the orders."

"He is in charge. His hands control the pain. He can knock me out any time he wants. If I've gone to sleep, he can wake me up. He even tells me where to go and what to do when I get there - all by changing the pain I receive through these wires. Of course, I could refuse to do what he tells me to, but where's the fun in that? Right now, he wants me to teach you. I've told him what I want, but he will decide whether to do it. If you've no other questions, grip my wrists. Hold on as tight as you want to."

It took almost an hour. Konti's breathing was very ragged, when he breathed at all. He kept his body rigid with the effort to control himself. About half way up, he started shaking his head and muttering, "I can't." Kirk kept up a running stream of encouragement. The 'I can't's became louder and more insistent. Kirk kept his voice calm and quiet, while refusing to accept the 'I can't's.

The last three, Kirk could tell they were getting close. Konti's eyes glazed over, he began to sway, and his death grip on Kirk's wrists loosened. Kirk could feel him fighting to stay conscious. He almost lost it towards the end of an interval, revived slightly during the rest period, and lasted almost half way through the next interval. As Kirk lowered him to the floor, he spoke to Koh.

"That's it, Koh. How high did we get?"

"130."

"Do you have any data that indicates what's normal for Klingons?"

"No, not really. And I don't consider you normal for humans either. You're just very interesting to study."

Kirk chuckled as he sat on the floor next to Konti.

"I'd be willing to bet we can raise his score by at least 50 points, but I don't have any assets with which to bet."

"50 points? Hmm... Seems unlikely. I take your bet. How about this for terms: I've got a new twist on the sleep deprivation test I want to try. If you win, I won't do it. If I win, I do the test."

"Koh, that's crazy. You're going to do the test no matter who wins the bet, and you know it. I have a better idea: If I win, you get me a steak dinner, and actually let me eat it, not just look at it and smell it. If you win, no steak."

"You're on, except if I win, you have to watch me eat it."

"If who wins what?" Konti woke up.

"A little friendly bet on how much I can raise your score. I accept those terms."

"Score?" Konti sat up.

"The dial reading when you passed out. Now, tell me whether you're still afraid of the intensity of the pain."

"The dial reading? You mean, you expect me to go even higher?!"

"Your perception of the pain is what's important, not the dial reading. When we're finished, the dial reading will be higher at the max you can tolerate, but your perception will have changed. So, do you still fear it?"

Konti didn't answer.

"What's your reaction to the idea of doing it again right now?"

"Fear. Definitely."

"On your feet then. That's exactly what we're going to do."

They actually did it twice more, with Konti's scores at 135 and 130 respectively. Kirk sensed Konti was tired, so he was pleased to hear Koh announce it was time for his second weight workout. He hoped Koh would let Konti sleep, but no such luck. He wanted Konti to coach the workout, in the hopes that he could help Kirk concentrate enough to raise the score above 120.

Konti was an expert coach. Within a few minutes Kirk told Koh to start raising it.

"Stop when Konti tells you to. I think he'll see it in my eyes."

When the workout was over an hour later, Kirk was tired but felt good. He hadn't noticed the pain from the wires hardly at all.

"Kirk, you better sit down before you fall down," advised Koh.

"Why? I feel fine."

Kirk started walking towards the door, and suddenly collapsed. Konti thought he had passed out, but Kirk slowly turned onto his back. A wry smile lighted his face.

"Koh, if I didn't know better, I'd say this was over 200."

"It is and has been for the last half-hour. Congratulations on a new record."

"Thanks. But don't tell me how high til I get used to it. So, where to now?"

"You think you can go anywhere?"

"Yes. I may have to crawl, but if I'm conscious, I'll get there."

"Back to Room A then."

Kirk tried twice to get up and couldn't manage it. Konti offered to help. Kirk said he didn't mind crawling, but it would be slow. Suggested Konti go lie down. He refused. It took Kirk ten minutes to crawl the few feet from one room to the other, with frequent stops to rest. But they finally got there, and Kirk rolled over onto his back.

"Konti, do me a favor and bring me those IV tubes."

"Do they really help? Can you tell the difference?"

Kirk answered as he plugged in the IV's.

"My mind knows I need this to survive. But it doesn't alleviate the sense of thirst. When I finish one of those workouts, the desire for a glass of water is pretty overwhelming. Hunger isn't a problem unless I can smell food. Every once in a while, he feeds me something just to make trouble, but mostly I subsist on the IV's."

"Kirk, why do you let him do this to you?"

"It's lots more interesting than a prison cell. We have work to do. Help me up."

Konti pulled Kirk to his feet, but had to hold his wrists or Kirk would have fallen over. After a few minutes, the dizziness passed and Kirk could stand on his own.

"Koh, how high are we anyway?"

"Guess."

"220?"

"You're at 230."

"230! No wonder this feels so overwhelming!" Kirk was surprised, but not appalled.

"It doesn't _look_ like overwhelming. If it weren't for the fact that you can hardly stand up, it doesn't look any different than before. Kirk, how do you _do_ that?"

"The concept is simple. Not easy to do, mind you. But the idea is not complex. I do not fight the pain; I accept it. It is not an enemy to be conquered. It is a familiar friend with whom I spend much time. My whole approach, mentally, emotionally, and physically, is based on this one concept. Likewise, Koh is not an enemy, but a friend. We are colleagues working together as a team.

"We spend a lot of time pushing the limits. This jump up to 230 is an example. For the past week or so, I've been passing out at about 200. A thirty-point jump is unusual, and I'm not quite passing out, just very close. Anyway, sometimes I'm eager to push it; I like the challenge. Other times, it's a real effort emotionally to let myself be stretched, pushed beyond what I know I can do. Often I'm quite certain I can't do it.

"But I've learned not to let myself even ask the question. Whether or not I can do what he's pushing for is irrelevant. What matters is my attitude about it. Get the attitude right, and the physical response takes care of itself, mostly. There are a few techniques I will teach you about how to keep it off your face and out of your voice, but they're secondary to the basic concept.

"Let me hasten to add, this does not mean you don't feel the pain. You do, overwhelmingly, but it doesn't have to control you. Any questions?"

"During the workout, did you feel the pain? Why did you say you were fine, and a moment later, collapse in agony?"

"That's a slightly different phenomenon. If I can focus and concentrate sufficiently on something else, I genuinely don't feel the pain. That's how Koh could raise it over a hundred points, because you were helping me focus. Once that focus was removed, the pain hit me like a ton of bricks. Koh knew it would. So did I, but I had no idea how high he'd pushed it."

Kirk worked with Konti another four hours, getting him to breathe during the pain, to relax his hands and arms, to accept two-minute durations, then three minutes, as well as ten-point jumps instead of five. Konti stayed with it, and by the end of four hours, was more confident and relaxed than Kirk had ever seen him.

Koh announced another session in the weight room. This time Kirk would go alone, and Konti would stay in Room A.

"Are you going to let him sleep? He's been up all night."

"So have you."

"So what? The question is whether Konti can learn to do this if he's exhausted. Whether or not I can teach in a state of exhaustion is an entirely different question."

"So get yourself over to Room B, and let me worry about Konti."

"Okay." No further word of protest.

Kirk managed to stay on his feet and walk to the door by holding onto things.

"Koh, are you going to make him work out with the dial at 230?"

"Probably not, but he expects me to make him try."

"He's barely conscious. Walking is almost more than he can manage. And he's going to try to lift weights?"

"He knows it can be done. Remember, he did it just four hours ago."

"He's been standing here in agony for the last four hours. He's got to be exhausted."

"Exhausted is relative. And he's been focused on you, not himself. Notice he's walking, not crawling."

"Still... I'd like to see it."

"You can if you want. Come on back to the monitoring room."

"Is that fair? Shouldn't I stay here?"

"What does fair have to do with it? Do you think Kirk would object to your watching?"

"No, it's not that. He probably doesn't care. But I'm supposed to be dealing with pain, not watching him from the safety of the monitoring room."

"As long as you're wearing those wires, you're not safe from the pain, no matter which room you're in."

"All right, I'll come then."

When Konti walked into the monitoring room, Kirk was already well into his workout. Koh just pointed to the dial, which still stood at 230. Konti shook his head in disbelief, and stared at the screen, fascinated. Some ten minutes later, when Konti was thoroughly involved in what was happening on screen, Koh turned on Konti's pain generator at its lowest setting. Konti didn't react, and Koh didn't think he was even aware of what he had done.

Every few minutes, Koh inched the dial higher. Konti continued to be riveted on Kirk's workout. And Kirk was working very hard, mentally and physically. To Konti's amazement, he was actually doing it. Konti felt he was vicariously experiencing it with Kirk. When Kirk was through, he lay down on his back, grinning from ear to ear, immensely pleased.

"Koh, you'd better leave that out of the report. They'd never believe it. I wouldn't have either."

"I disagree. If you hadn't believed it possible, you couldn't have done it. Konti can hardly believe it though, and he's been standing here watching it. And he still doesn't know what I did to him."

Konti jerked his head to stare at Koh, who simply pointed at the dial reading, which read 50. As Konti realized what it meant, his body stiffened in reaction. Koh saw it and moved to turn off the pain.

"No! Leave it."

Koh froze mid-move, looked at Konti to make sure he meant it, then removed his hand from the dial. Into the silence intruded Kirk's voice.

"Knowing Koh, I can guess what he did to you. How high did he push it?"

"50."

"Are you angry?"

"No, why would I be?"

"He tricked you."

"He taught me a lesson I wouldn't have learned any other way. It's one thing to see the phenomenon at work in you; it's quite another to experience it myself."

"And how is the pain now?"

"I'm definitely aware of it, but it's not overwhelming. If you can handle 230, I can get used to 50."

"But can you go to sleep?"

"I'm not sleeping unless you do."

"You'll do what Koh tells you to, just as I will."

"Koh says, it's time for sleep. I'm running this show by myself. I gave Khich several days off. The fewer people that see this the better. So I'm going to bed. You two can do what you like for the next six hours."

Koh turned off the equipment, ushered Konti out the door, and shut off the light. He disappeared into Room C as Kirk appeared in the doorway of Room B. Kirk gestured Konti into Room A, plugged in the IV's, and lay down on the floor, leaving Konti the bed.

"Why should I take your bed?"

"Because I'm the slave. Don't argue; just sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day, even if it doesn't start til after noon." He sat up. "Of course, there's nothing to prevent you taking off those wires, getting dressed, and going home. You'd sleep better there than here."

"I'm staying here. But the floor is cold."

"Don't worry about it. I can sleep anywhere, any time."

Kirk lay down again, and within minutes was sound asleep. Konti lay awake for almost an hour, and when he did sleep, it wasn't particularly restful.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Konti woke to the sound of Koh's voice. He was shaking his shoulder.

"Wake up, Konti. I let you sleep an extra hour, but if you want some breakfast, you better get it now."

Konti sat up groggily.

"Where's Kirk? Is he eating?"

"He's in the weight room, and no, he won't be eating."

"If he's not eating, I won't either."

"Kirk's on IV's. You're not. Go eat. It's in Room C."

The prominent feature of Room C was an elegantly laid dining table. One wall contained well-concealed kitchen equipment, and another wall held a fold-up bed. The table was laid for two, although there were four chairs. As Konti hesitated, Koh entered the room behind him, followed shortly thereafter by Kirk. Koh gestured Konti to a chair; then he and Kirk sat. Clearly he intended this to be a breakfast meeting.

But Kirk had nothing, not even the glass of water he had admitted yesterday to craving. Konti looked at Koh, who was making a big deal of the fruit juice in his hand. Kirk was watching, relaxed and unconcerned. He grinned at Konti, wryly amused.

"If you think this is bad, sometimes he puts a full glass in front of me, and then tells me I can't drink it."

Konti put his utensils down abruptly.

"Eat; doctor's orders," Koh insisted.

Konti didn't resume eating. Kirk tried too.

"Konti, please eat your breakfast. I won't get any, whether or not you eat. It will distress me more if you do not eat, than if you do."

Konti reluctantly started eating again, mentally vowing to give Kirk a glass of water every day.

"I know what you're thinking, and if you do, I will refuse it. No food, no water, no sleep, and no privacy. Those are the rules."

"It seemed more or less reasonable at the time. The reality is so much worse."

"Don't think about it." Dismissing the issue, he turned to Koh. "You called this meeting. What are we supposed to talk about?"

"What do you plan to do today?"

"You're in charge. You tell me."

"No. Answer the question."

"I plan to do whatever you tell me to do."

"I'm telling you to plan what you will do today."

Konti listened to this exchange and burst out laughing. Kirk was pleased to distract Konti from the food issue, and that he wasn't too nervous to laugh.

"I presume you want to know the steps I would take in Konti's education, provided you give me opportunity."

"Yes."

"We need to get from 50/130 to 100/180. One of the biggest hurdles is handling non-stop pain. Pain management over a long, indefinite time period is rather different than short bursts. But we also need to work on stretching the limits, so we need to keep going to that upper extreme. The key in all of it is to relax and accept it. Yesterday, we got over a lot of the fear of it. Today, we work on relaxing while pressing the limits. Sound like fun?" This last remark was addressed to Konti.

"You're joking. You think what you did last night was fun?!"

"Depends on your definition of fun. I was very pleased with that third workout last night. If hard work can be fun, yes, I think it was fun."

"How did you do it anyway?"

"I simply imagined you were there, saying all the things you said to me at the previous workout."

The schedule for the day included two-hour sessions with Konti, one-hour workouts, and one-hour sessions testing Kirk's limits in other rooms. Room F contained a large machine. At first glance, Konti thought it resembled a mindsifter. Kirk calmly assured him it wasn't, as he climbed into the chair.

He chuckled. "Though it does have a tendency to scramble the wits somewhat."

Koh explained as he wired Kirk to the machine.

"This machine controls sensory input: not just sight and sound, but temperature, gravity, motion, smell. We've run various experiments in here, recording his perceptions at different levels of pain. Today I'm testing the effects of a new drug. I won't tell you what it's supposed to do til we're done. First, we run it without the drug; then give him the injection, wait an hour, and run it again. I record everything he says. It's generally very descriptive. Sometimes it goes by too fast to describe. And occasionally he'll ask me to back it up and play it again, because he thinks he missed something."

Konti chose to stay and watch, even though Koh assured him there would be nothing to see. But Konti saw Kirk's relaxed body and heard his calm voice describe the most bizarre sensations. He wondered how Kirk could separate the sensory inputs from his reaction to it. He would say, 'I'm falling, faster and faster. I feel the wind on my face. I'm spinning, dizzy, feel light-headed.' And there would be no panic reaction in his body. His hands remained loosely draped over the chair arms. When it was over, Kirk grinned as he climbed out of the chair.

"That was one of the more wild rides this machine has produced. Congratulations on a superb program, Koh."

"Your injection's in Room A. No physical activity during the wait. Take a nap."

Kirk left without a protest. Konti asked Koh for a turn at the machine.

"Sure. But you don't know what you're asking for. Kirk's words, no matter how descriptive, don't give you the half of it. Especially since he does it in that tour-guide voice, as if it's not really happening to him. Believe me, when you're hooked up to this machine, it feels every bit like reality."

"You speak from the voice of experience."

"Yes. I couldn't believe Kirk's reaction, or lack of it rather, so I had Khich hook me up. Kirk is not exaggerating when he calls it a wild ride. I would call it a nightmare. So are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Kirk thinks it's fun. I can tell by the look on his face. But if I try to get an answer out of him, he'll just say it's more interesting than a prison cell. How can he be so cheerful about everything? His existence is full of pain and deprivation, some of it of his own making. Yet in the midst of it all, he's unfailingly full of... - life. I don't understand him, but I want to."

So Koh hooked Konti up to the machine. For the next 45 minutes, Konti endured the nightmare that Kirk had called a wild ride. He heard Kirk's tour-guide descriptions and almost laughed at the deliberate understatements. In fact, he could imagine Kirk's joyous laughter through the whole thing. A couple of times, he almost caught it, but then was overwhelmed by the next part of the wild ride. When the machine fell silent and Koh unhooked him, Konti could hardly walk, he was so disoriented. Kirk was there, grinning at him.

"Couldn't resist it, I see. Did you get your money's worth?"

"You think this is an amusement park ride?"

"Sure. Better than most. Cutting edge programming. The younger generation would say, 'absolutely awesome!' - when what they mean is, 'absolutely terrifying!'"

"And you think it's funny."

"Beats letting myself be afraid of it."

Kirk moved to the chair, albeit a little cautiously, as if he couldn't see it clearly.

"What's the drug doing?"

"I'm seeing double, all my nerves are on edge, and senses of all kinds are heightened roughly by a factor of two."

Konti shuddered at the thought of double the nightmare he'd just finished. Kirk, as usual, behaved as if it was nothing.

"It's exactly the same program." Koh had finished the wires. All that remained was the helmet.

"So I can leave out the basic description and just give you the superlatives?"

"Actually, we have time. The drug won't wear off for several hours." He hesitated.

"Time for what? If you're hesitating, it must be really bad." Kirk grinned.

"I'd like to run it straight through with no talking. Let you concentrate on the experience itself. Then you tell me everything you can remember. Then we run it again, slowly, picking the whole thing apart, replaying whatever we need to."

"Sounds good to me. Why the hesitation? Oh, because we don't strictly have to do the first run. But I think it's a good idea. There's a gestalt that's missing when I sit back and describe the whole thing. Let's do it. But it's going to take a while; Konti will get bored."

"I have other plans for Konti."

As Koh ushered Konti out the door, he heard Kirk begin to laugh. They walked down the hall as far as Room B.

"I want you to work out for an hour, then help yourself to supper in Room C. After that, take a nap. It's going to be a long night. I'm going to play with your dial, but I'm not telling you how much or how long. And don't ask, just deal with it."

So Konti did. Like Kirk, he didn't feel a thing as long as he was working out. Shortly after he finished, it hit him suddenly. He staggered but didn't fall, perhaps only because he was close to the wall and able to lean on it. It felt like more than the 50 of last time, but he wasn't sure. Slowly he walked down the hall to Room C.

He sat heavily in the chair. Koh had left food out for him. Could he manage to eat and ignore the pain? Ignore it, no. But eat in spite of it, maybe. Only one way to find out. He managed it, slowly. Good thing Kirk wasn't watching. No, Kirk wouldn't laugh at him. Kirk only laughed at himself.

He didn't think he'd be able to sleep, but lay down in Room A anyway. Next thing he knew, someone was calling his name. He woke slowly, aware that his body stiffened as it became aware of the pain. He opened his eyes and sat up. Kirk was smiling.

"Congratulations. You can sleep through a 60. Want to tell me about it?"

"I didn't think I'd be able to, but I used the tools you gave me, and it worked. Has the drug worn off? Are you done with that machine? And did you laugh all the way through that super wild ride?"

"No, yes, and yes. Some things, the only way to face it is with laughter."

"But I couldn't laugh if it wasn't funny. How can you think it funny?"

"It's not funny as a joke is funny, though it's starting to become a joke too. That machine is supposed to be a particularly exquisite form of torture. Koh knows what my reaction is, but he keeps writing these absolutely marvelous programs for it, just to see what my opinion is - to see if I find all the little things he put in it.

"Anyway, I'm not laughing at the joke. I laugh because it's fun. I enjoy it."

Konti gave him a look of outright disbelief.

"Look at it this way: I have no control over the program. I'm going to experience these sensations. That's a given. But I can control my response to it. I can choose to see it as an awful nightmare, or as a marvelous wild ride."

"I don't see how you can change a nightmare into something marvelous just by choosing to. Especially not a drug-induced double nightmare. Did you say the drug hasn't worn off yet?"

"Right. I'm not seeing double anymore, but the rest of it is still going full swing. A large part of why it's not a nightmare for me is that there's no fear of any part of it in my heart. So I'm free to enjoy it."

Koh's voice came from the speakers. "If I may interrupt your discussion, it's time for a workout. Konti, I'd like you to coach this one."

Konti stood up slowly. "Okay. What about the drug? Do I still expect him to be able to do what he did yesterday?"

"That's what I want to find out."

"You're not going to crank his dial all the way up to 230, are you? That's insane!"

"That's for me to know. I'm not telling what I'm doing to yours either."

"Quit arguing, and let's get to it." Kirk grinned.

Konti threw up his hands in defeat, and shook his head at Kirk, but followed him out the door. So focused was he on Kirk, that he didn't notice that he was virtually ignoring his own pain. He coached Kirk all the way through the workout, and it was his opinion that Kirk's concentration was even greater than it had been the day before, whereas he would have expected the exact opposite, due to the drug.

They finished the last set and lay down on the floor to rest. Within moments, Konti felt the pain he had been ignoring. It felt worse than before, lots worse. He began breathing heavily, and fighting against the instinct to stiffen all his muscles. When he thought he was winning the fight, he turned his head to glance at Kirk, who was strangely silent. Looking closely, Konti decided Kirk was unconscious. Alarmed, he sat up and verified that Kirk was breathing.

"Koh! What did you do to him?!"

"He'll be fine. I just didn't turn it down quite fast enough."

"How high did you have it?"

"240."

"Koh! That's a perception of 480! You could have killed him!"

"Well, I didn't. I told you, he'll be fine."

"How do you know? What have you got his dial on now?" Konti demanded.

"120."

"Koh! Turn it off, all the way off!" His voiced thundered.

"Are you pulling rank on me?" Koh's voice was deceptively calm.

Konti took a deep breath to calm himself. "No, I'm not. Is it permitted to inquire what you're trying to accomplish?" he asked with deliberate precision.

"You can ask, and I don't mind telling you. I wanted to know how the drug affected his ability to concentrate and shut out the pain. My conclusion is that, if anything, it helped, not hindered."

"I would agree. He seemed more focused to me, not less."

"Right now, I want to know if he can regain consciousness with the pain at perceived maximum, which is slightly higher than yesterday's max."

"Yes, I can," Kirk answered as he woke. "How high?"

"The dial's at 120 right now. With the drug, that's an effective 240."

"Yes, that's about what it feels like. What did you hit me with right after the workout? I didn't even have time to register what it felt like before I blacked out."

"I had the dial all the way up to 240 during the workout."

"Whoa! Sounds like you've got a winner. How long do the symptoms last? You got any other tests you want to run?"

"Kirk! Do you realize he almost killed you?"

"Yes. So what? It's not the first time, and won't be the last. He won't kill me; that honor is reserved for you." He grinned at Konti.

Konti stared, but said nothing.

"Kirk, your pet student has been ignoring a dial reading of 100 for most of the past hour. And doing it unconsciously as far as I can tell."

"I felt it after the workout, before I saw that you were unconscious. And I can feel it now."

Kirk sat up and looked at Konti appraisingly. His eyes were intently focused, and he was holding himself quite still, but he was not rigid with tension. Kirk smiled.

"Good. You're getting it. 100 is more than half-way to your max. I don't suppose you'd be content to quit now?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me? I'm not quitting. I still can't do half what you can."

"Koh, what's next on the program?"

"Get yourself back to Room A and plug in those IV's. You can have the next four hours with Konti. You haven't won the bet yet. And just because I like you, I'm turning your dial to zero."

Kirk laughed. "You're too kind."

Konti detected a note of mockery and asked about it as they moved to Room A.

"Oh, Koh likes me, I don't doubt, but that has nothing to do with turning off the pain generator. Much more likely is that he intends to shock my system by going from zero to max in nothing flat."

"Koh would do that?"

"Of course. He's supposed to be torturing me. We're also running experiments. If he can combine the two, so much the better. But I hope you don't have to watch. It's not very pretty. It takes me a while to adjust."

"Don't let him kid you," Koh put in. "I've never seen it take longer than five minutes, and sometimes he does it in thirty seconds flat."

"What makes the difference?"

Kirk answered, "Lots of variables: whether I'm asleep, how long I've been pain-free, what drugs he has me pumped full of. But I never have any warning. That would spoil the whole thing. So if I suddenly stop talking and start screaming, you'll know why."

"He never screams," Koh objected, "except for that dinner party at your place. I don't know how he faked it so realistically. That is so unlike the way he deals with pain, I'm surprised he knew _how_ to do what he did."

"So what does he do?"

"Usually nothing much: breathing gets a little ragged, muscles tense up; he stops talking, closes his eyes. Once he even pounded the bed with his fist out of frustration with himself, but that's unusual."

Kirk worked with Konti uninterrupted for the next four hours. At the end of that time, Konti's max had increased to 160. Koh sent Kirk back to the weight room, this time alone. He sent Konti to bed in Room C.

"I want Kirk by himself tonight. If you want to watch, I'll get you up in four hours."

"I do."

Four hours later Koh woke Konti and they went to the monitoring room. Kirk was sound asleep. Koh told Konti that he had laid out several injections, which combined with the one already in his system, should give them an interesting show.

"You're trying to duplicate the five minute adjustment."

"Exceed it if I can. Kirk knows what I'm going to do, but he doesn't lose any sleep worrying about it. He took the injections without a moment's hesitation, and immediately went to sleep."

Koh set the dial and was about to hit the power switch. Suddenly he had an idea. Turning, he spoke to Konti.

"I want you to hit the power button."

Konti was taken aback. "Why?"

"Let's just say, I'm testing a theory. You promised to obey me. Prove it." And he pointed at the power switch.

Konti slowly and reluctantly pushed the button. Kirk immediately stiffened and began to jerk spasmodically. Then he groaned and began tossing and turning, as if he were trying to throw off the pain. This went on for several minutes. Koh explained.

"The drug is keeping him half-asleep. He doesn't know what he's doing. But notice his hands. No fists. And see that - within inches of those wires, he throws his hand away from them. Not even awake, and he won't let himself touch those wires."

Kirk began to breathe slowly and deeply. Gradually the thrashing subsided; finally even the jerking quit. Kirk lay quietly with no outward sign that he was awake. Koh looked at the timer.

"Nine minutes, twenty-nine seconds. A new record. The man's incredible. Proves to me over and over again the strength of his will and control over his own body. I haven't yet found a drug that he can't subdue."

"Are you just going to leave him like that?"

"Yes. Does that bother you? Doesn't bother him. I wouldn't be surprised if he manages to go back to sleep."

Konti looked skeptical, and still disturbed.

"Okay, I'll tell you what. You go in there and talk to him. If you can get him to say 'yes', you can come and turn off the power. But only if he gives you permission. I'm going to bed, but don't think I won't know. Good night."

Koh left and Konti went into Room A.

"Kirk, are you awake?"

"Sort of," came the sleepy reply.

"Are you awake enough for me to talk to you?"

"You can try." Kirk didn't move, and his reply was only slightly less groggy.

Konti sat on the floor beside the bed, slightly amused at this reversal. Kirk didn't seem aware of it.

"Kirk, I've been watching for the last fifteen minutes. I pushed the power button that turned on your pain. Koh made me do it to prove I would obey him."

"He's devious." There was no malice or bitterness in his tone.

"You're not angry?"

"No. Not with you. Not with him. How long did it take?"

"Nine minutes, twenty-nine seconds."

"I bet Koh's pleased with himself."

"He said you're incredible. I think he's looking for a drug you can't conquer."

"Well, I'll be the first to know if he finds it."

"How can you joke about it?!"

"It's a habit." Kirk smiled sleepily. He still hadn't opened his eyes.

"Koh's gone to bed. He said I could turn off your pain if you said it was okay."

"Not a chance. Forget it."

"He said he would know if I cheated, but I don't see how."

"Simple. He knows I won't say 'yes'."

"How could he know?"

"Konti, I have spent hours on the floor of that monitoring room, not because I couldn't manage to get up and turn it off, but because I refused to. Another time, he strapped a toggle switch to my hand. We played with that all night and all the next day. We stretched limits I didn't even know were there. He pushed and pushed and pushed some more, positively begging me to push that button. I wouldn't. So that is why he knows I won't say 'yes'."

"But why not?"

"I deal with the pain by accepting it. If I allow myself to say 'no' to it even once, that weakens my ability to accept it the next time. Complete and total acceptance makes no room for the easy way out. So go back to bed. I won't change my mind. And if I did, I'm perfectly capable of getting myself to that monitoring room. And I know where the power switch is. Besides, with the help of this drug, I may even get some more sleep."

Konti shook his head and left.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

They spent the next day similarly occupied. Except the day's experiments were held in Room D, which focused on the micro rather than the macro. Kirk sat calmly while Koh poked him repeatedly with needles. Some penetrated deeply enough to bleed, others didn't. Koh worked on a variety of skin areas, but the most unnerving for Konti to watch was the fingertips.

Kirk's hands lay open and relaxed. Koh did not restrain him in any way. They were so close together, that Kirk could have successfully attacked Koh, had he chosen to. Neither of them seemed aware of it. Kirk was as intently focused on the data as Koh. From the sound of his voice, you would have thought him a dispassionate observer, rather than the victim.

Konti watched not nearly as dispassionately. His own pain a constant background, Konti spent more and more of his attention focused on Kirk. Koh said his dial was up to 120, but it no longer felt much different than 60 had. Also, he could handle spikes up to 180 if he knew they were coming. Not completely without tension, like Kirk could, but he didn't pass out.

Later that day, Kirk was again working with Konti. He had reached a plateau. He had gone as far as he could go using the techniques Kirk had taught him.

"You've done well, Konti. There's no reason for you to pursue this further."

"But I can't do what you can do."

"It's a matter of degree. I've just had more practice, that's all."

"I don't think that's all. You operate on a different level. There's a reckless abandon about everything you do. You call it total acceptance, and it is, but I would also call it total unconcern. You really don't care what happens to you."

"Well, if you ever find yourself a prisoner on an enemy planet with no way of escape, you can remember what I did."

"You don't act like a prisoner; you don't act as if we are enemies; and not once have you tried to escape."

"Yes, but that doesn't change the facts. If I don't care what happens to me, it's at least in part because I _know_ what's going to happen to me. I've known since the moment I boarded your ship," Kirk reminded him quietly.

"I understand you expect me to kill you, and some day I will have to, but that's not what I'm talking about. Death is final, but there's so much pain before death. You don't care how much, what kind, or even who inflicts it. You have more interest in why, but even that's not in the least self-protective.

"I have some idea now how you do what you do, but I still don't understand why. So I'm not ready to quit." He took a deep breath. "I want that toggle switch."

"No! Konti, listen to me! You do not have to prove anything," Kirk pleaded earnestly. "Not to me, not to Koh, not even to yourself. You are accepted just the way you are."

Konti didn't reply, but his disbelief was obvious.

"You don't just want the switch; you want Koh to push you the way he pushed me. Konti, don't ask him to do that to you. This is not worth sacrificing your friendship with him. You trust him with your life. Will you still trust him after he breaks you? And even if you do, how will he feel about you?"

"He doesn't mind doing it to you."

"That's different. It's his job to do it to me."

"Konti, Kirk is right. I won't do it. I'm sorry."

Konti looked defeated, but only for a moment.

"You could make Kirk do it."

"You know as well as I do that I can't make Kirk do anything. I could tell him, and he might do it, but if I'm giving the orders, then I'm responsible, regardless of who's pushing the buttons. So the answer is still 'no'."

Konti looked intently into Kirk's eyes. That indescribable something was supplemented with concern and compassion. There was one more thing he could try, but he expected Kirk to refuse.

"No one can make you do anything, but I'm asking. Will you do this for me?"

Kirk did not reply immediately.

_Lord?_

_ Do it, Jim._

"Koh, would you be willing to push the buttons if I'm giving the orders? If I'm going to do this, I want to be focused on Konti, not the buttons and dials."

"Yes," Koh responded slowly, "I guess so."

"All right, I'll do it. But Konti, do you remember the knife scene in your house? I can act like a thorough-going villain. Are you sure you want me to do this to you?" Kirk's eyes probed for reassurance.

"Yes, I am. But why are you willing? I was sure you would refuse. You're so adamantly opposed. What changed your mind?"

"Not what - Who. God changed my mind. In my judgment, this is a bad idea, but He said 'do it', so I'm obeying orders. I trust His judgment more than my own."

Kirk pulled the toggle switch out of a drawer. (He had known exactly where it was.) He strapped it to Konti's hand, talking while he worked.

"Here's what I have in mind, Koh." He explained a series of hand signals by which he would tell Koh what to do with the dials. "And if I'm jumping more than twenty points, I'll do it verbally. But I want an instantaneous response. By the time I'm finished saying it, I want it to be happening. No time to think about it. So you better get some coffee and stimulants. It's going to be a long night. Also, if you can tie mine into his, so I'm getting what he's getting, that would help."

"I can, but your perception of 150 is different from his."

"I'll compensate. But I don't want to have to ask him for feedback."

"Understood. I'm working on it."

"How's that, Konti? Comfortable? Doesn't feel like it's going to fall off? Press the switch. Go on. I'm just trying to line it up so it's easy to do."

Konti pressed the switch several times. Kirk made an adjustment and Konti pressed the switch again.

"That looks good."

Konti nodded wordlessly.

"Koh, can we test this connection? Give us about 50."

"Done."

"Konti, press the switch three or four times. Is it working?"

Konti nodded.

"It's important that _you know_ the switch works."

Konti nodded again.

"My goal is to get you to press that switch, to turn off the pain. Everything I say and do will be aimed at that goal. Up to now, I have been the voice of encouragement. This will be the exact opposite, though it may sound very similar. Nothing I say is to be trusted. I may lie to you, deceive you, play all kinds of tricks on you. Anything at all is fair game. Do you understand?"

Konti nodded.

"Koh, are you ready?"

"One more minute."

"Konti, this is your last chance to back out. If you're determined to go through with this, I want you to say out loud that you want me to do this, that you will accept without bitterness everything I do to you."

Konti hesitated, and swallowed convulsively. Kirk just waited. Finally Konti slowly spoke the words Kirk had asked for. Kirk nodded a solemn acknowledgment.

"Koh?"

"Ready."

"180. Now!"

Konti gasped and crumpled to the floor. But he wasn't quite unconscious. Kirk knew he couldn't handle this. Of course, that's why he did it. Probably wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. Well, he wasn't giving up that fast. He deliberately moved his thumb away from the switch. Turning onto his back, he breathed slowly and tried to relax. The words he had spoken to Kirk echoed in his mind. _Accept everything, without bitterness._ Slowly he relaxed and lay still.

Kirk was impressed. Maybe, just maybe, Konti could really do this. Regardless, Kirk was committed. He began speaking in a soft, quiet voice.

"The pain is terrible. Like knives, stabbing, cutting, twisting, over and over again. Your feet burn like fire, the pain is so intense. It will go on without interruption for hours and hours and hours. It will never get less severe; it will only become more intense. The only thing that will stop it is for you to press the button. A simple, easy action. All you have to do is push the button and the pain will stop."

Kirk repeated this message in several variations over the next half-hour. Konti occasionally shook his head, but otherwise did not respond. Suddenly Kirk hauled him to his feet, and drove him into the hallway. He marched him up and down the hall, raising the dial five points for each circuit. He whispered in Konti's ear, urging, tempting, and taunting. After the third circuit, he put him in the chair in Room F, wired him up, and turned on the machine.

He talked all the way through the program, displaying a remarkable memory of it, since he himself couldn't see any of it. Then he played it again, raising the dial another ten points. His aim was to distract Konti from his goal, and overload his system with too much sensory input. It almost worked. By the time they were through with the second play-through, Konti was breathing heavily and was very tense.

Kirk decided not to go for a third round. If Konti memorized as fast as he himself did, then a third round would have diminishing returns. So he drove Konti back down the hall to Room B. He had no idea how Konti would respond to the weights, but he knew the routine well. Kirk raised the dial five points with each exercise. Rather than coaching Konti effectively, he shouted abuse of various kinds.

Konti stuck with it, virtually ignoring Kirk and concentrating on the workout. When it was over, he lay down on the floor to wait for the pain, as had become their custom. Kirk sat nearby. The dial was up to 250 by his calculations; he did not know if Konti would pass out, but it was entirely probable.

Konti gasped, went rigid, and began pounding his fist on the floor. Occasionally he muttered 'can't,' shook his head in frustration, or kicked the air. He seemed on the ragged edge of losing it. Kirk renewed the attack with quiet words of temptation. Finally Konti yelled at him.

"Shut up, Kirk! If you can't say something helpful, don't say anything!"

Kirk was silent for a few seconds. Then Konti realized what he had done.

"Go ahead, say anything you want. 'Accept everything' includes what comes out of your mouth, doesn't it? I should have known this would be at least as hard to take as the pain itself. You called Koh devious; you're three times worse than he is."

"Konti," Kirk was the voice of reason. "You can't go on forever. You're over my max now. If you press the button, we're done. You came out on top, at 250."

"And if I don't?"

"We keep going until you do press the button."

"You would keep raising it even though we're past your max, just because I won't press the button?"

"Yes."

"Prove it. Meanwhile, what's next?"

Kirk raised it another five points. Konti clenched his fist and his jaw, but his right thumb was kept firmly away from the button. Kirk thought fleetingly, _He's as stubborn as I am!_

"Back to Room A."

Konti and Kirk both crawled, and Kirk whispered in Konti's ear all the way there. Back in Room A, Kirk rose without much difficulty and plugged in the IV's, more from habit than conscious decision. He turned to Konti, who was still on the floor.

"On your feet, Konti."

Konti got shakily to his feet, clutching the bed for support.

"Let go of the bed."

Konti did, staring at Kirk out of pain-filled eyes. Suddenly Kirk had to fiercely suppress his emotional response, and Konti saw it. He remembered how vigorously Kirk had opposed hurting him, and he understood the emotional cost to Kirk. At that moment, he was most strongly tempted to press the button. But he didn't do it. Kirk was perfectly capable of having engineered that slip for the sole purpose of tempting him. But Kirk was talking again.

"All right. You wanted a contest. Here it is. I keep raising it five points at a time til one of us passes out. If I pass out first, you win. You can tell Koh to shut the whole thing down. If you pass out first, then I wait til you wake up, and then we resume this little game we're playing. If you fall down, but don't pass out, then you get up, and we keep going. Nobody holds onto anything. You have to stand on your own. Unless of course, you decide to press the button."

Konti shook his head. Kirk raised it five points. Nobody moved. He raised it another five points. Konti swayed and almost fell. Another five points. Konti fell, but wasn't out. Got up slowly.

"You could end this by pressing that button."

"I don't care what you do, I'm not pressing this button, ever, and that's final."

"Then you better flex those knees. You're standing too rigidly. And relax. You're so intent on not pressing that button that you're forgetting what I taught you."

And Kirk raised it another five points. Konti thought Kirk's words must somehow be another trick, but he did flex and relax some. Kirk saw what Konti thought, and laughed.

"How's your bitterness quotient?"

"What?"

"Are you angry?"

"No, I don't think so."

"If I knock you out, and do this all over again ten or fifteen more times, would you be angry?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Do we need to do it to find out?"

"I don't care."

Kirk raised it another five points. Konti swayed but didn't go down.

"Are you sure you don't care?"

"I really don't care. Do whatever you want. It doesn't matter to me."

"Do you hear what you just said?"

Konti looked surprised. Then his whole face lit up. He began to laugh. He fell onto his back, his arms raised in triumph, his feet kicking the air, shouting: 'I don't care!' at the top of his lungs. Kirk just grinned at him.

"Koh, we're done. You can shut it off. Thanks for seeing it through. I'm sure it wasn't pretty. It's going to take Konti a while to calm down. Feel free to join the party."

Koh came in and they sat on the floor in companionable silence, waiting for Konti to stop carrying on. Suddenly Konti sat up, still looking profoundly surprised.

"I really don't care. You could turn it on again now and I wouldn't care. The thought of getting slammed with two hundred plus whatever just doesn't faze me. Kirk, how did you do it?"

"You know exactly what I did. The only thing you don't know is that I've been praying for you ever since the Lord told me to do this."

"You've been praying. For me. You mean, all the time you're whispering in my ear trying to get me to press the button, all the time you're raising the dial, you've been praying for me?" Konti's tone moved rapidly from disbelief to anxiety.

"That's right."

"I have no idea how you can talk to your God while you're doing all this other stuff, but- What did you say about me?" Konti asked uneasily.

"I asked God to accomplish His purpose in this encounter, that He would do in you and for you what He desired, that He would use me as a willing instrument to accomplish His purpose for you, that He would give you His peace, His grace, and His strength."

"You asked Him to make me not care?" Konti's brow furrowed in confusion.

"No. I didn't know where we were going, what it would look like, or how long it would take, but I recognized it when we got there. Would you agree that you got what you needed out of this?"

"Yes, I did." Konti bared his teeth in frustration. "But if you didn't know, how did He?"

"God knows you. He knows everything about you. He doesn't have to learn about you from me."

"Your God knows me. That's scary," Konti admitted.

Kirk smiled disarmingly. "Not if you understand who He is. He wants you to know Him, and He will go to great lengths to show Himself to you."

"Including put you through months of agony."

"I do it willingly."

"I know, but where will it end?"

"I don't know. But I'm in no hurry to die. The agony's nowhere near that bad. I trust the Lord to arrange the completion to suit His purposes."

Koh interrupted, "Speaking of completions, there's one more encounter I need for my report. I just don't want you to think you're all finished."

"Sure. You're talking about Room E. Tonight?"

"I'm exhausted, and you two should be. No, tomorrow morning is soon enough. You know what's in Room E this time?"

"No, I'm guessing. I haven't snooped." He explained to Konti. "Room E is called the guessing room, because he changes what's in it every week. Usually I go in there with the pain at the max, no sight or sound, often without the use of my hands even. He times how long it takes me to figure out what's in there. It's my favorite of all the games we play. Probably because it's never boring."

"Koh, I have a question before we turn in. How high was the dial when we quit?"

"280."

"280!?" Konti was thoroughly shocked.

Kirk grinned. "You didn't believe me that we were over my max, did you?"

"No, I didn't. You had said not to. 280! I survived 280, without passing out? Unbelievable! Did you know we were going to go that high? That's forty points over your max!"

"No, I didn't. I knew I was going to start at your max and go up from there. And I knew I wasn't going to stop at my max, just because I'd never been higher. How high was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was getting to where you needed to go. I trusted God to tell me when we got there. He did."

"Well, Kirk, you've earned that steak dinner. For your performance of the last four hours, I should give you two steak dinners. You surprised me several times, but so did Konti. I had no idea he could handle what you did to him."

"I didn't either. Neither did he. But that was the whole idea: to find out. That's why you keep pushing my limits, isn't it? To find out where the true limit is: the point beyond which I cannot, or will not go. Keep looking, with my blessing. You may find it."


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Meanwhile, the _Enterprise_ was dispatched to answer a distress call. It was an out-of-the-way planet, deserted except for one life-form.

"A very old life-form, Captain, non-humanoid. The distress beacon comes from the compound which houses this life-form."

"Uhura, open a channel."

"Audio only, Captain."

"This is Captain Young of the starship _Enterprise_. We are responding to your distress beacon. What is the nature of your difficulty?"

"There's no response, Captain."

Young rose gracefully and took a step toward the Science station. "Spock, what can you tell me about this life-form?"

"Very little, Captain. Organically based, approximately 200 kilos in mass, and thousands of years old. Located in an area which contains breathable air, and considerable electronic equipment."

"Why doesn't he answer our hail?"

"Unknown, Captain."

Young paused, considering.

"All right, assemble a landing party. Let's go find out what the problem is."

xxxx

Chuck was chosen to go along. Sullivan admonished him to focus on the rapport, or lack of it, between Young and the others. They gathered in the Transporter Room. Chuck was issued standard field gear for security detail, along with intradermal transponder and universal translator. The other security guard along was Eric Mechak. The other pads were occupied by Young, Spock, McCoy, Uhura, and Sulu.

"Energize."

They materialized in the central area of a very large room - several hundred feet long. The room contained vast arrays of electronic equipment, but the center was an area about thirty feet in diameter, devoid of furnishings. There was no sign of the life-form. They spread out and approached the edge of the circular area. Suddenly Young called out in alarm. Chuck turned to look, and saw that Young, Sulu, and Uhura were each enveloped by a force field. He moved to investigate, but Eric was ahead of him. He was examining the floor around the perimeter of the circle. Chuck saw him step into another small circle and be enveloped in a force field.

"Spock, Doctor, don't move," Chuck instructed. They were standing together in the middle of the circle. Chuck examined the floor and saw three other small circles. All the force fields were located around the perimeter. Chuck joined Spock and McCoy.

"If we stay here, we may be safe from the force fields. Although I do not see a way past them to get to the equipment in this room." And he explained to Spock what had just occurred.

"Med-scanner can't penetrate the shields, but they all look okay from here."

"Tricorder readings show only a high level of energy output. No evidence pinpointing the life-form." Spock had altered his tricorder for tactile output.

"Captain, can you hear me?" Chuck called.

"Yes, loud and clear. I can see you too. I just can't get to you."

The others reported the same circumstances. Chuck tried his communicator and couldn't raise the _Enterprise_.

"What shall we do now, Captain?" Chuck inquired.

"Opinions, Spock?" Young asked.

"Describe the nature of the force field."

"I can see through it, and hear you, but it feels like a smooth wall when I touch it."

"No electrical shock?"

"None."

"Explore the wall by touch. Are there any breaks in it?"

After a few minutes, Sulu replied. "Feels like a doorway on the far side."

"Yes," Uhura echoed. "Mine does too. Nothing else though."

They all confirmed similar findings.

"Interesting," Spock reflected. "Chuck, does the field resemble a wall on the outside as well?"

Chuck approached Young's cell cautiously. Young put his hands on the wall. When Chuck reached a distance of twelve inches from Young's hands, he began to encounter resistance. Pressing hard, he got to within six inches, but no closer.

"Much more closely resembles a standard force field," Chuck reported. "I couldn't get closer than six inches. But only mild discomfort. I don't know if it would increase with prolonged contact."

"And what is the distance between force fields at their closest point?"

"The fields are circular, and I'd guess there's less than a foot between them."

"And where are the unused force fields?"

"There's one gap to the left of the Captain. Then Sulu and Uhura are next to each other. Then two empty spots, then Eric is next to the Captain."

"Thank you. I have the picture. Captain, with your permission, I will attempt to reach the perimeter."

"Go ahead, Spock."

Spock walked directly toward Young, stopped when he reached the force field, then began inching sideways along the face of the field, pressing his body into it as he progressed.

"Please advise me when I reach your doorway."

Chuck watched Spock move past the point of closest proximity with the unused circle. Its force field did not activate.

"You're approaching the doorway now, Spock."

"Yes, I can feel a higher energy output in this area." Spock explored the doorway with his fingers, looking for any mechanism that might open the door. He found none. He took two steps backwards, and was free of the force field, and standing outside the perimeter.

"Chuck, if you can repeat what I did, I would be grateful for a set of eyes with which to explore some of this equipment."

"I'm on my way."

Chuck found that the energy output of the force field was indeed painful when his whole body was in contact with it. But it was bearable, until he got to the doorway. But he was able to skirt the edge of it, and step away from the force field without triggering the empty circle. But when McCoy tried it a few minutes later, he got caught, and became the fifth prisoner. So Chuck and Spock turned to the equipment panels.

Spock established a link, and with one hand on Chuck's face, and the other on his shoulder, they went exploring. It was an odd experience for Chuck. He had little understanding of what he was looking at. Spock did not speak, even mentally, but somehow Chuck knew, without knowing how he knew, what Spock wanted to see next. They explored the entire room without touching anything. They returned to Young's cell, and Spock withdrew.

"Captain," Spock reported, "we have visually explored the contents of this room. I have reached a number of conclusions. First, the person for whom this equipment was designed is very probably shorter than we are, perhaps 1.2 meters tall. Our sensors indicated the life-form was non-humanoid, but this equipment suggests the presence of manipulative appendages, such as our hands and fingers, also the desirability of sitting while working.

"Secondly, while the purpose of much of the equipment is unclear, the purpose of some of it is all too clear. Captain, unless I am much mistaken, this life-form is a scientist who uses other life-forms as victims of his experiments. The distress call is very likely a ruse to lure victims into his trap."

"I see. Recommendations?"

"A high priority is communication with the _Enterprise_, to warn them against sending others into the trap. I would have to either find a way to turn off the jamming mechanism, or find a way out from under the shield blanketing this facility. As exits from this room do not appear obvious, the former might prove more doable."

"Any idea how we might get out of here?"

"There appears to be a central control console that may contain solutions to both problems."

"I won't keep you then. But contacting the _Enterprise_ is more important than getting us out of here."

"Understood."

Chuck and Spock returned to one of the first consoles they had looked at. Using Chuck's eyes, Spock began trying to break into this system. He worked for some fifteen minutes. Chuck held his communicator open, ready to send if Spock punched through.

"Interesting. This code is not what I would have expected. Almost as if he planned for us to break in. Chuck, be wary of a trap. This is too easy. There. Try it now."

"Byrd to _Enterprise."_

"Scott here. We lost yer signal at once. Even now, I canna beam ye up through that shield."

"It's a trap. Don't send anybody else down here. Captain's orders."

"Understood. So I'm supposed to sit and wait for you to extricate yourselves."

"You got it. Sorry, Scotty."

"Get that shield shut down, and I could lend you some help."

"We'll try. Don't know if-"

Suddenly the communicator started emitting a high-pitched whine. Chuck immediately recognized that sound. So did Spock. Without delay, Spock grabbed the communicator and hurled it aloft. They both dived for the floor and covered their heads.

The communicator exploded in the upper darkness, showering hot fragments in all directions. After a moment, they arose, unhurt, and reestablished their link. Spock turned back to the console.

"Intriguing. The code is now of an entirely different nature. Much more complex. More importantly, if the creature intended for us to do what we have just done, why? And what will he do now?"

Spock worked diligently for half an hour. Chuck had no idea what he was doing, until he spoke mentally.

*I do not know if he has an audio monitor, but it would not be surprising. I am attempting to free the Captain from the force field. He has considerable technical expertise. Ah, this might do it. Again, be wary of traps.*

"Captain, if your door is open, please join us."

As soon as Young stepped clear of his force field, Chuck heard a loud humming sound overhead. He looked up and yelled a warning.

"Look out! Above you!"

They saw an enormous insect descending. Its shape resembled that of a wasp, with many more legs, and a translucent, rather than black body. Spock had his tricorder out at once.

*Yes, the readings match. It is the thousands-of-years-old life-form. Though perhaps the form we see is not his true shape.*

Spock turned back to the console, and Chuck tore his attention away from the wasp-creature. A moment's examination revealed the code had changed again, to something even more complex. Spock abandoned the console, and he and Chuck went to Young's rescue.

Chuck pulled out his phaser and fired. No apparent effect. He fired again. The creature was almost on top of Young, but turned to notice Chuck. Young scrambled out of reach, and Chuck fired again.

"No good, Captain," he called. "Shall I reset to kill?"

"No!" Young called back.

Chuck fired again, and the creature came toward him.

Spock melded briefly with Young, and then stepped between Chuck and the wasp-creature. Young ran to the console, and began working feverishly. Chuck stepped to one side and fired again, trying to draw the creature away from Spock. It ignored him and advanced on Spock, who stood quietly waiting for it. Chuck stopped firing when it touched Spock.

The antenna gave off a significant electric shock when it touched Spock's chest. He started to raise his hand, seeking the creature's head. The antenna delivered another shock, this time on the arm he had moved. He stopped moving. The creature delivered five more shocks in quick succession, to the other arm, both legs, another to the chest, and finally to the head.

Spock stiffened, then keeled over backwards. He felt the creature begin to move away, thinking him unconscious. Leaping up, he threw himself at the creature, found its head, straddled its neck, and planted both hands on the creature's head. It immediately tried to rid itself of the encumbrance. It shook violently. It raked Spock's body with its legs. It took off and did a variety of aerial acrobatics. Spock clung ruthlessly, ignoring all of it. He probed, seeking the mind of the one who held them captive.

Meanwhile Young succeeded in breaking into the more complexly coded system. With the creature's attention on Spock, Young had time to open the rest of the cells, reestablish the comm link with the _Enterprise_, and punch through the shield long enough to permit one beam-out. Young sent all five of them. Chuck and McCoy both tried to argue.

"I'm not leaving without Spock!" McCoy was adamant.

"Yes, you are, Doctor," Young's tone brooked no argument. "If possible, we'll be right behind you. But in any event, I want the rest of you out of his reach."

"Captain," Chuck ventured, "Request permission to assist Mr. Spock. You can't hold the field open, and rescue Spock at the same time."

"Request denied. Spock doesn't need rescuing. And if he did, you would be no match for that creature. Now, get out of here, all of you!"

"Aye, aye, sir," replied Sulu. "Five to beam up, Scotty."

The transporter effect caught the attention of the creature, who landed as soon as the five had gone.

"Spock!" Young called, "Get free of him, and get over here!"

The creature threw Spock off and pinned him beneath his many feet.

"Captain, I regret I cannot comply." Spock's tone was mild. "Did I hear the transporter?"

"Yes. The rest are out of here. We could leave too, if you can get free. I am working on a self-destruct sequence."

"Captain, I do not think that is necessary, or advisable."

"Why not? What else can we do with it?"

"Captain, this life-form is unique, very old, and extremely intelligent. Killing it would be a tragedy." Spock's deep respect for life came through loud and clear.

"Having it experiment on and kill countless unwary victims is a tragedy too. And if you've succeeded in talking to it, why is it still holding you captive?" Young asked suspiciously.

"I have not yet been able to talk to it."

"Then how do you know its intelligence? All I've seen is violence."

"Its violence is born of fear, pain, and desperation. It does not wish to kill."

"All right. I've got that sequence ready to go. But I won't set it in motion, unless I think he's killing you. So, talk to him. You've got thirty minutes."

"Thank you, Captain."

Spock slowly reached up and put his fingers very lightly on the underside of the creature's head.

*I am Spock. I am sorry that I hurt you. I did not know that what I did would hurt you. I saw no other way to make you understand that I wished to talk with you. Does what I am doing now hurt you?*

*No. Your touch now is very delicate. But I do sense pain. It is not mine, however. At least, I don't think it is mine. How can this be?*

*The pain you sense is mine. It is an effect of the method of communication we are using. Does it distress you?*

*You are in pain from my legs which hold you down. How do I know this? Very intriguing. I have never encountered such a phenomenon. You are a most unusual specimen.*

*You must learn to think of me as a person, like yourself, not as an animal to be studied and cast aside when some experiment proves fatal. No self-aware being should be treated as an animal. And even animals should be treated with certain regard for their well-being. Do you understand what I am saying?*

*I must not study you because you are a self-aware being. That is disappointing, because I find much about you that arouses my curiosity.*

*I did not say you cannot study me. I said you may not treat me like an animal. I too am a scientist, and there is much about you that I would like to know. But I would not imprison you, attach wires to you, or dissect you for the purpose of studying your physiology.*

*So it's not the scientific study you object to, but the methods?*

*Yes, especially imprisoning your subjects.*

*I have instituted all these controls because the subjects keep running away.*

*Did you ask their permission to study them? Did you tell them what you were doing and why? Did your procedures hurt them? Even an animal will take steps to avoid pain.*

*I cannot communicate with any of them. I have tried. No one understands. You are the first one I have talked to in a very, very long time. But, you said an animal will avoid pain; yet you do not struggle to get free. Why not?*

*I am not an animal. Talking to you is more important to me than avoiding the pain you inflict. Also, when you voluntarily stop hurting me, I will know that you are beginning to live by my rules of conduct.*

*If I let you go, you will run away, just like all the others.*

*Will I?*

Young watched the creature slowly remove his legs from Spock's body, one by one. Spock continued to lie on his back, one hand extended to the creature's face. Young took his hands off the console and began to relax. Spock talked to it for another fifteen minutes. Then the creature took off and flew away. Spock stood up and approached Young.

"Captain, I believe you can abort the self destruct."

"Where has it gone?"

"He requires food frequently."

Young's communicator beeped.

"Cap'n! The shield is gone. Shall I beam ye aboard?"

"One moment, Scotty." Young turned back to Spock. "He shut down the force shield, and we're free to go? What about the next victim he lures into the trap?"

"I do not believe there will be any more such victims. However, I would like to request, in the interests of science, that the _Enterprise_ remain in the vicinity for the next three days, so that we may conduct scientific research."

"We?"

"Yes. He will study me, and I will study him. He would like to study you also. I suggested you might be willing, in exchange for letting Dr. McCoy study him. Also, I would like Uhura's assistance in a study of his language. If translation is possible, it would alleviate the need for mind-melds."

"All this in three days?"

"Yes, sir. Enough to file reports, after which others will come to work with him."

Spock spent the entire three days on the planet. So did Uhura, except for sleeping. She discovered the creature's language was pitched higher than humans could hear. She rewired a couple of translators to compensate, and the language problem was solved. She wasn't satisfied however, without a complete linguistic analysis of the language. The creature, whose name was Dajinu, was happy to speak several hours' worth into her recorder.

McCoy's initial exam was over in a few minutes. The doctor thanked him and turned to go. Dajinu was surprised.

"Is that all? But you haven't done anything!"

"This little machine tells me a great deal, without my having to touch you."

"But Spock and Young have both allowed me to do a complete study of their physiology, including blood samples, tissue samples, and dozens of tests. There is no substitute for hard data!"

"They did, did they? Well, in that case, yes, there's a good bit more I'd like. But let me study what I've got first. I'll be back in an hour or two."

McCoy returned to take samples, and again for a variety of other tests. Dajinu cooperated fully. He learned more from McCoy about how to treat his subjects than he had from either Spock or Young. Spock would point out after the fact that something he'd done was not right. Young simply endured in silence. But McCoy treated him the way he should treat others. Quite an education.

It was nearing the end of their three days together. Spock had been in mental contact with Dajinu for most of those three days. Dajinu preferred it to the translators, and Spock didn't blame him. Dajinu had explored Spock's mind extensively, and in turn, Spock had learned much from Dajinu. Each considered the exchange worth the price.

*Spock, you are a complex being. I have learned much of you, and from you. I understand how great a privilege you have extended to me.*

*You are most welcome. I too have learned much. Is there anything else you would like to know before I go? The time draws near.*

*Relationships are very important to you. Your shipmates, your friends; you would die for them. Yet you hold yourself aloof from them emotionally. Except for one. Why is he different? Tell me of Jim Kirk.*

*I do not object to your knowing, but there is more detail than we have time for, and I do not know if I can explain why Jim is different. Though I am far more open emotionally with several others, than I would have been if it were not for Jim.*

And Spock described his relationship with Jim Kirk, summarizing certain incidents. He went into more detail concerning their encounter with First's people, as well as the more recent events associated with Kirk's abduction by the Klingons.

*So, even though there is no evidence, you believe he lives.*

*The only evidence is within my own mind, but it is sufficient. I know he lives.*


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Koh and Konti enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, while Kirk watched. When Konti tried to protest, Kirk said, "Remember 280."

"Which means you don't care. How can you not care?"

"No amount of talk is going to get me anything to eat or drink. I really don't care whether you eat or not, but you might as well. Koh wants you to; it will sound better in his report if you both eat. Otherwise it makes him seem like the villain. Besides, if you aren't savoring your juice, I can't look on in tortured envy." Kirk grinned with mischief.

"You think it's funny!"

"How many times are we going to have this conversation? I've told you why I make jokes. So drink up, and let's talk about something else."

He glanced at Koh, who was openly amused.

"What are you laughing about?"

"You don't like it when Konti feels sorry for you. It makes you uncomfortable."

"You're right. If I let him feel sorry for me, I'm tempted to feel sorry for myself. And that's a slippery downward spiral. But it's more than that. To be the object of pity is extremely distasteful. I think it's because it makes me feel less of a person. If you pity me, then we cannot relate to each other as equals."

Konti was puzzled. "You don't mind being a slave, but you don't like being pitied."

"You don't think of me as a slave. Those that do, ridicule rather than pity me. And that's what I want them to do. And the reason that it makes you uncomfortable is that you pity me. See it the way I do, and it ceases to be a problem."

"Weren't you pitying me last night? I saw something in your eyes, just for a moment."

"You thought I did it on purpose, and I might have, if I'd thought of it."

"That was the worst moment of temptation all night," Konti readily admitted.

"I'm not surprised. Anyway, that wasn't pity. I'm not sure how to explain the difference. When I saw the pain in your eyes, emotionally I felt your pain with you. My own was easily ignored. Yours was not easy to ignore. I wasn't regretting what I was doing to you, nor wishing it wasn't causing your pain. I was simply feeling your pain as if it were my own."

"Your pain was doubled?"

"Not physically. I wasn't any closer to passing out. But emotional pain is usually harder to deal with. It's less amenable to self-control. It can be done, but requires much more effort. It can feel like a physical pain, stabbing your gut, twisting and squeezing until you can't stand it. But its source isn't physical, it's emotional. To control it, you must control your thoughts, and what you allow yourself to feel.

"Well, I've wandered pretty far from the concept of pity. Maybe if you could ask me a question, we'd get a little more clarity."

"Are you saying that pity is wishing it weren't so, but what you did - does it have a name?"

"Empathy."

"Empathy is feeling the other's pain without wanting to change it."

"I would have taken your pain if I could, no matter what it would have done to me. But I knew you could not get where you wanted to go without going through the pain."

Koh and Konti had finished eating. Koh rose to depart.

"We start in Room E this morning, gentlemen. I'll be in the monitoring room."

They followed him into the hall and headed in opposite directions. Konti wondered if Kirk really knew what was in Room E. So he asked.

"The whip, of course. That's what started this whole thing anyway. I'm just glad Koh hasn't had me beating you morning, noon, and night, for days on end. I don't know if I could take that, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to."

They entered the room, and Konti saw that the whip was exactly where he had left it. Suddenly Kirk crumpled to the floor. Startled, Konti dropped to the floor next to him. Kirk turned onto his back, visibly fighting the pain for several minutes. His breathing slowed, his muscles relaxed, and he smiled.

"Such a warm welcome, Koh! You're full of surprises. How long, and how high?"

"4.63 minutes. Guess."

"Over 250 certainly. 270?"

"280."

"Sorry. I wasn't paying much attention last night."

"Can you function at this level?"

"Probably." And Kirk slowly got to his feet.

Konti also stood and watched Kirk. Except for his slow movement, he would never have known that Kirk was in pain.

"Now what?" Kirk inquired.

"Take all the wires off Konti."

Kirk and Konti removed the wires in a matter of minutes. Then they stood facing each other, knowing what was coming, but not speaking of it.

"Konti, when you came here, you promised to obey me, and put up with whatever was done to you without protest. Do you now reaffirm that promise?"

"I do." Konti kept his eyes on Kirk.

"Good. I allowed Kirk to teach you because I was interested in what he would do and how. To say he exceeded my expectations is an understatement. However, as interesting as that was, and as valuable to you, you need to understand that from now on, this is not about you; it's about Kirk.

"You are nothing more than a tool in my hands. I will use you to torture Kirk. On top of maximum physical pain, I will heap emotional pain beyond what he can endure. My goal is to break him. If I succeed, it will not be pretty. I have given you all this explanation because it is imperative that you remain absolutely silent. Not one word of complaint or protest. If you cannot guarantee silence, I will tape your mouth."

Konti drew himself more erect.

"Tape will not be necessary."

Kirk remembered with amusement the day Konti had taped his mouth. Fortunately Koh hadn't used any talking drugs since that day. Kirk's transparency had made it unnecessary.

Koh continued. "Kirk, you on the other hand, will be your usual transparent self. I can't measure emotional pain the way I can physical. All I have to go on is what you tell me."

"I don't think you can inflict emotional pain on me unless I let you," Kirk stated calmly.

"Oh, you'll let me all right. I'm coming to that. But first, turn on some of that transparency and talk to me. What are you feeling?"

"At this moment, I'm not feeling much of anything. I'm looking at Konti."

"Interpret what you see."

"He is calmly confident that he can handle this. He would like to ask my advice, but he won't violate your command for silence. He is more concerned for me than for himself. He is surprised that I can read so much in his face.

"I told him you would do this; he didn't believe me. But now, in spite of being proved wrong, he still trusts you. I told him I would trust you with his life because he does. And I do, but that doesn't make this any easier to face. I don't suppose you'd let me just describe what it would be like, and skip actually doing it?"

"Not a chance, but I would like the description."

Kirk took a deep breath. "It's qualitatively different from last night, partly because I can't inflict whiplash wounds on myself. Last night was easier to take because I was doing to myself everything I did to Konti. But it's more than that. The physical act of wielding the whip and seeing the results: the welts on the skin, the blood oozing from the cuts - it all seems much more real somehow than these wires."

"You don't think 280 is real?"

"Yes, it's real enough, but you said yourself that it doesn't satisfy the bloodlust. In the same way, it doesn't appall me the way this does. I did it once because Konti asked me to, and it was absolutely awful. I would rather die than do it again. So unless you can come up with a very compelling reason, I will simply refuse to do it. You can't force me. Nothing you can do to me will make me do this."

"I won't have to force you. You will force yourself. Because I have that compelling reason. But tell me, do you fear that I will break you? Is that why you want to refuse?" Koh asked curiously.

"No, you will not break me. If I decide that I really have to do this, then I will ignore my emotional response in the same way that I'm ignoring that 280 you're sending me. You think there's a maximum to what I can ignore, and maybe there is, but you haven't found it yet.

"The reason I don't want to do this is that I don't want Konti to suffer because of me. My goal is to do him good, not harm. And it has nothing to do with what he can handle. It has to do with the motivation behind doing it. Last night our goal was to help Konti. Today the goal is to torture me. I am not willing to harm him for the purpose of torturing me."

"It's true that is my purpose. But your compelling reason is that it will benefit him."

"I'm listening."

"It's not so much that it will benefit him, but that the lack will harm him. I fixed it with Korn to let Konti in here, by telling him what I planned to use Konti for. In his eyes, Konti is making a personal sacrifice to aid the State in its interrogation of an important prisoner. There was no mention of any benefit to Konti, nor did I tell Korn you would be teaching him what you do. For personal reasons, I am quite certain Konti doesn't want Korn to know what we did last night."

"He won't find out from me. I take it back; yes, he will - as soon as they finish the new mindsifter; there are no secrets from that machine. So Konti, I recommend you tell him at your earliest opportunity. Much better than waiting for him to find out. But what does that have to do with today's activity?" Kirk asked pointedly.

"Korn has superiors who are quite interested in you. Some are saying that Konti is too personally involved. Only the public beatings give Korn sufficient ammunition to refute their claims. He may be able to avoid reporting last night's activity, but only if there is something else more significant to report, something more tangible. I predict that within an hour after Konti leaves the lab, he will have one or more visitors requesting a visual inspection."

"If they find nothing, you're saying Konti will be in trouble. What kind of trouble?"

"They will most certainly take you away from him."

"If that's all, that's not a compelling enough reason."

"You force Konti to beat you regularly, but you refuse to beat him for the same purpose?"

"That's right. I have the right to abuse my body as I deem necessary to accomplish my goals. I have no such right to abuse his body," Kirk adamantly insisted.

"You have an interesting moral code. However, that's not all. Konti could be facing far more serious consequences. Loss of power and position, even loss of rank, are relatively minor. But he could be tried for treason. Korn has enemies, who would stoop to attacking him through Konti."

"They would believe that Konti is not committing treason if they saw the evidence that I had beat him?"

"It's not so much a question of what they would believe, as what they think constitutes supportable evidence. If you beat Konti, and in turn, Konti gives you several brutal public beatings to make you pay, they will not press, because the evidence so clearly supports Konti, regardless of what they actually believe."

"Several brutal public beatings - Konti is thrilled. I agreed to cut back on the public beatings because he hates them so much. This sounds like the exact opposite of cutting back. Why can't we skip my beating Konti, and just step up the public beatings? What reason have you given for my doing this? Surely they wouldn't believe the truth?"

"Korn believes it, but no, I don't expect the rest of them to believe that it causes you more pain to beat Konti than anything else I've done to you. The report will read that I threatened you with instant death if you did not. So you did, even though you knew Konti would pay you back triple for every lash."

"Hm, that sounds like the picture we've been trying to create, very believable. They would never believe that instant death would be preferable. You could, you know. Just spin that dial all the way up to 500, and leave it there for fifteen minutes. That'd take care of everybody's problems."

Konti's eyes were flashing with anger, but he said nothing.

"You really don't want to do this, do you?"

"No, I really don't. Tell me again why I have to."

"Because if you don't, Konti may be successfully accused of treason."

"Right. That's a compelling enough reason. Congratulations. You have me backed into a corner. Konti, you don't have to answer this, but do you believe Koh's assessment of the situation is accurate?"

Konti blinked once, and held his gaze steady on Kirk.

"And do you agree with his conclusions?"

Konti blinked again.

"All right, Koh, I give in. I'll do what you want."

"I never doubted it, but you argued longer than I expected. Pick up the whip."

Kirk obeyed with reluctance.

"Is it all right if I give Konti that advice he was asking for?"

"No. Konti will have to cope the best way he can. I would not be entirely displeased if he cannot cope. More painful for you if he can't."

"Then why didn't you do this first, instead of all the other things we've been doing for the last two days?"

"Because the visual inspection will have the greatest impact if it is fresh. Now, in order to avoid letting you simply turn off the emotions, we're going to do this slowly, giving you lots of time to ponder. Look into Konti's eyes. How does it make you feel to know that over the next four to five hours, you will give Konti a total of 280 lashes. We will then take a one-hour break, after which you will do it again. In short, we will be at this all day. How does this make you feel?"

"Sick." Kirk let his emotional reaction come through in the words. "Absolutely awful. Weak-kneed. Faint of heart." He paused to rein it in. "Will that do for a description?" he asked calmly.

"And what do you see in Konti's eyes?"

"Fear, grim determination, and concern for me. We each know what the other is facing, and you won't let us talk about it. You'd like it if we both fell apart." Kirk straightened his back. "Well, we're not going to.

"Lord, I ask you right now to hold Konti in the palm of Your hand, with the peace that passes understanding. I'm trusting You to keep him in that peace all day."

The fear disappeared from Konti's eyes. The determination and concern were replaced by a deep peace. Kirk smiled.

"It's real, Konti. And it's not going to disappear, no matter what happens."

"Kirk! What did you just do?"

"You heard me. I asked the Lord to give Konti His peace. I can see the difference in his eyes. The Lord's peace is powerful. You wait and see."

It had not occurred to Kirk to pray for himself as well, but the Lord understood and supplied the need. Kirk applied the lash in increments of twenty or forty. In between each set, he looked into Konti's eyes and reported his own feelings and what he saw in Konti. In addition to the deep peace, he began to see joy in Konti's eyes, as he discovered first-hand what Kirk's secret was.

Kirk was indeed grateful that Konti stood calmly, with his hands on his head, not reacting in the slightest to the lash. Koh continued to bring him face to face with how he felt about this. It did not get easier. He had to continually remind himself the reason he was doing this. Konti's life was worth every lash. Nevertheless, it was exceedingly difficult to watch Konti's back get worse and worse, especially as Kirk became fatigued.

Kirk had made no effort to count the total lashes, so he had only a vague idea that it had been several hours already. When he realized that he was feeling the effects of 280 on the dial, he wondered fleetingly if he really _was_ going to fall apart. Maybe Koh had finally found a combination that was beyond his ability to endure. But beyond sharing his thoughts with Koh, he didn't dwell on the possibility. He just kept doing the next thing.

By the time Koh called a one-hour break, Kirk's breathing was very ragged, his movements jerky, and he could hardly lift the whip, he was so exhausted. Koh sent him back to Room A, so he wouldn't talk to Konti, who stayed in Room E. Although Koh turned off the pain generator, Kirk staggered down the hall, breathing in gasps. He collapsed on the floor, neither unconscious nor asleep, but too exhausted to move.

Koh came in, plugged in the IV's, and left again without a word. Kirk was too exhausted even to pray. All he knew was that it was unlikely he could manage another four or five hours of this, even after an hour's rest. He remembered being aware that Konti still had the Lord's peace. _Thank you, Lord. _Kirk fell into a deep sleep.

Koh got himself something to eat, made some notes for his report, and went to check on Kirk and Konti. Kirk was sleeping soundly. He didn't disturb him. Konti was doing calisthenics when Koh entered. He laughed at the look on Koh's face.

"I used to wonder why Kirk did this. Now I know. The need to restore circulation is more critical than the need to rest. After all, I haven't been doing anything except standing here."

"But doesn't your back hurt?"

"Of course. So what?"

"You sound like Kirk."

"Yes," Konti smiled with delight. "He's finally shown me his secret. Not that I'll be able to duplicate it, but I'm enjoying it while it lasts. Koh, you have no idea how wonderful this is!"

"I'm sure I don't. What I really came in here to ask is whether you think you can survive a second round of this."

"He said it would last all day - the peace, that is - so I don't see why not. But do you really think Kirk can survive much more? It seems to me as if he's close to losing it."

"I think he is, but I've learned never to underestimate him. But promise me this: when he loses control, stay out of it. Don't talk to him, don't chase him, don't restrain him. Let him do what he's going to do."

"Even if he tries to kill you?"

"He won't. I'm dead certain of it."

"Just so long as you're not dead as a result of being certain. Koh, lock your door."

"No. The doors are never locked, and I'm not starting now. I've given him repeated opportunities to attack me. It doesn't even enter his thinking unless I put it there, and then he just laughs at me."

"You've never pushed him over the edge."

"I'll risk it. I have to. To lock the door on him would be- I can't explain it- dishonorable, somehow. Though how one can speak of honor regarding a slave is not entirely clear to me." Koh's hands stilled for a moment, a clear sign that he didn't understand this phenomenon himself and wasn't sure of Konti's reaction.

"I know what you mean, though. Kirk is an honorable man. He treats everyone with honor. Somehow he evokes honor in everyone he meets. Even Kadat, who was madder than a hornet, believed Kirk's word."

"Yes, and gave him three cracked ribs as a result. Anyway, you've got about twenty minutes. You can have some juice. I wouldn't recommend any solid food."

"Is Kirk eating?"

"After a fashion."

"Which means he plugged in the IV's."

"I did; he wouldn't have bothered."

"How can he go for days and weeks without eating? He can't be really getting enough from those IV's."

"He gets enough to stave off the worst of the dehydration and starvation. But you're right, he's thirsty almost all the time. The only time he's hungry is after I give him something to eat. That steak dinner bet he just won will cost him three days of nasty hunger pains, and he knows it. Won't stop him from enjoying the dinner."

"When I think of all the meals he's served me in these last weeks, and not a sign that he's suffering! I don't know how I'm going to manage to eat in front of him."

"You'd better. Dangerous not to."

"You could start feeding him, or at least give him water. Even an animal gets a water supply!"

"He's not an animal, and he's not complaining." Koh crossed his arms over his chest, unmoved by Konti's outburst.

"He won't, and you know it!"

"Yes, he's as stubborn as you are. That's why you like him. You're two of a kind."

xxxx

Kirk woke slowly, realized where he was, and memory returned. He rolled onto his back, stretched, and noticed the IV's. He couldn't remember having done that, but that didn't mean he hadn't. He remembered being pretty far gone. Now he felt rested, at least physically. Didn't mean he wanted to face Konti's back again. Just thinking about it brought the emotional stress into focus. He felt emotionally unable to get off the floor, much less endure hours of whipping Konti.

_Lord, I can't go on. I do not have the resources to deal with this. Nevertheless, I trust You to accomplish Your purpose in my life. You have all the resources I need. If You want me to fall apart, I'm willing. I'm not willing to let evil triumph in this situation. In the name of Jesus, I command all evil forces to depart from me. I belong to You, Jesus, and Your will shall prevail in me and in this situation._

A supernatural peace came over him.

_Thank you, Lord._

"Kirk, time's up. Return to Room E."

"Considerate of you to use words to wake me, instead of blasts from the pain generator. To what do I owe such generosity?"

Koh did not reply. Kirk hadn't really expected a reply. He rose in one fluid motion, unplugged the IV's, and calmly went to Room E. He fully expected to be blasted with pain as soon as he walked in the door. He wasn't. Konti stood with his back to the door, giving Kirk a full view of his backside. Kirk walked around to the front, and stood facing Konti. As they gazed into each other's eyes, neither spoke, but the Lord's peace was communicated.

"Pick up the whip."

Kirk did so, and returned to stand in front of Konti.

"Talk to me."

"I'm amused that you haven't-" He broke off suddenly as the pain hit him full force. "Very... clever... You... hoped... to catch me... by surprise." He took one deep breath and had it under control. "And I wasn't expecting it at that moment, but I've been ready for it ever since I walked through that door. How long did it take?"

"One minute flat. It's disgusting!"

Kirk laughed. "Am I imagining it, or have you been inching the dial higher?"

"Guess."

"It's hard to tell at these levels, because I have so little data. But it definitely feels more intense than the 280. Is it 290, or have you got it cranked all the way up to 300?"

"It's at 300. I had it all the way up to 320 when you started noticing it. I should have slammed you with 320, but I was afraid you might pass out."

"Afraid?" Kirk retorted. "Of what? Are we approaching what's lethal?"

"The manual says anything over 450 is lethal, but I don't know what that's based on. The reality for you is probably higher, but what if it's lower?"

"400 ought to be safe, even so, and 320 is no where near that high. So why don't you want me to pass out? We could back up and play it again. You could even slam it up to 350 to see what happens. Even if I pass out, it shouldn't be more than a few minutes."

"You're just trying to stall," Koh mocked.

"So what? It shouldn't make more than a few minutes difference either way."

Koh turned serious. "You realize that if you can function at 350, then you will have to, for the next four or five hours?"

"Yes, the higher the better. I don't want you coming back tomorrow and saying, 'if only I'd pushed it one notch higher, maybe the results would have been different.' I want it finished today."

"Even if I break you?"

"Even if, and the sooner the better. Less agony for Konti," Kirk explained. "So how high can we safely go, in your opinion?"

"400 is the upper limit, and I'd feel safer at 375."

"If we quit at 375, you'd wonder about 380. If we quit at 400, you'd wonder about 405. So what's the absolute highest you would risk? 420? 450? 460? 500?"

"You can't function at those levels!" Koh scoffed.

"Probably not, at least not this week. But that isn't the question. How high would you go? Where would you stop because you dare not risk going any higher?"

"I don't know."

"Think about it, because here's what I think you should do. Find out where the current threshold is. Back off five points from there. When I'm involved in the activity of whipping Konti, start raising the dial. Stop when one of three things happens: I pass out; I break down; or you reach the max you're willing to risk. If I pass out, you back off five points, wait for me to wake up, and start raising it again. If I break down, you win. If I get to the max, you agree to never do this again. Either way, we finish today."

"You're pushing for this because you think you can handle one more session, but not more than that?" Koh was back in clinical detachment mode.

"No, actually I doubt if I can last through even one more session, and that's without raising it over 320. No, I want to save Konti the agony of days of this, while you test the upper limits. Let's go straight to the top now. You're more likely to break me this way, instead of approaching gradually so I can get used to it."

"And what of your emotional pain?"

"What you're doing is working pretty well. I don't have any suggestions for improvement."

"Wouldn't the emotional pain be worse if we draw this out for days?"

"No, not necessarily. If you exceed the maximum the soul can tolerate, very likely my emotions would shut down completely, and I would just feel numb. I can't even guarantee that won't happen today. It feels almost unbearable as it is."

"Are you lying to me?"

"About it being unbearable? I could hardly force myself to come back in here. And every time I look at Konti's back, I shudder."

"No, about your emotions shutting down. I know you won't lie to me to protect yourself, but would you lie to protect Konti?"

"Under certain circumstances, I might, but this is not among them."

"What circumstances, then?"

"To save his life."

Koh was silent for a moment.

"Okay. We do it your way. Your advice has been consistently helpful from the beginning. I'm going to believe you haven't changed."

"Thank you."

"Testing threshold now."

Konti watched Kirk fight to stay on his feet. He almost went down twice, but recovered enough to stay conscious a few more seconds. When he finally went down and out, it was with a sigh that sounded to Konti as if it contained a note of disappointment that he hadn't been able to last longer.

"Why does he do that, Koh?"

"Do what?"

"Fight so hard to stay conscious. He's just making things harder on himself."

"He always does that. I'm not sure he could do otherwise. We were talking about it several weeks ago, and he essentially told me I was making it too easy. I used to go up in five point increments, like what he did with you. He told me to change it to a constant, non-stop increase. I vary the speed at which it increases, just to keep him interested. But I think the fight to stay conscious is instinct.

"It's an interesting question though. I wonder if he could override the fight instinct and just let himself go. I may ask him."

"Ask me what?"

Kirk's eyes were open but he didn't yet try to stand up.

"The fight to stay conscious. Is it an instinct? And can you override it?"

"Yes, it's an instinct, but I can control it, I think. I wonder how different the results would be. Where's the dial at now?"

"335. It was 341 when you hit the floor."

"We could experiment right now. If you put it back to 300, we could run it up again and see how much sooner I pass out."

"Still stalling, aren't you? Well, okay, because I'm curious, but first, I want to know if you can stand at 335."

"Good question."

Very slowly, Kirk stood up.

"The answer is yes, just barely."

"Walk in a circle all the way around Konti."

His step was slow and careful, but Kirk didn't fall.

"Well?"

"I think it's doable, just; but it will probably get easier as I get used to it. The thing we have to watch for is whether the physical pain is taking so much of my attention, that I don't deal with the emotional at all. We'll just have to try it and see."

"Okay. Going back to 300. I'm going to ask Konti whether you were fighting it."

"Understood."

This time Kirk just stood there, relaxed, breathing deeply, with a half-smile on his face. Several minutes later, without warning, he simply collapsed.

"If there was any struggle to that, it was all internal. I didn't see a thing. How high did he get?"

"You're not going to believe this. It's 341 on the dot."

Kirk could hardly believe it either, when he woke.

"I guess I've learned that struggling is a useless waste of energy. Those results are hard to believe, though. Maybe several reruns of this experiment are in order."

"Maybe so, but not today. You've stalled long enough. On your feet, and pick up that whip you dropped."


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

The next several hours were the worst agony Kirk could remember. The mindsifter was easier. Physically, the agony was a constant struggle to accept. But this only occupied a portion of his attention, and a small portion at that.

Most of his focus was on the emotional pain. Gut-wrenching, squeezing, twisting, stabbing - it overwhelmed him, and he let it. Having decided that the sooner he fell apart, the better for Konti, he was not trying to fight it. His breathing was very erratic, and his legs so weak he could hardly stand, but he continued to report regularly to Koh. Because of the supernatural peace, his acceptance of the pain was complete. Because of his complete acceptance, he did not fall apart.

Kirk kept thinking he would fall apart any minute. There had to be a limit to what he could tolerate. But he couldn't make it happen; he had to let it happen. All he could do was continue to hold his soul open, and refuse to let it shut down. Nor could he fake falling apart. He had no idea what he would do when it happened. Not that he cared. But Koh was too canny to be fooled by a fake.

This went on for over two hours. Suddenly, as Kirk was looking again at Konti's back, it was as if he had never seen it before. The shock nearly knocked him over. His response was instantaneous and not thought through. He dropped the whip, staggered out the door, and down the hall.

"Koh!" Konti was quite alarmed.

"I see him. Stay where you are."

Kirk burst into the monitoring room and staggered to a halt.

"Koh-" he stopped as he registered Koh's defensive posture, and hand poised on the dial. "You don't trust me." His tone showed surprise, but no accusation.

"Actually, I do. Konti thought I should lock the door."

"Your body language is not conveying trust. If you really trust me, take your hand off that dial, and relax."

Slowly Koh did.

"That's better. I want you to come down to Room E. I want to show you something. Can you put that pain generator on auto-pilot? Or fix up a remote control?"

"You want me to come with you, back to Room E."

"Yes. Can you just leave this for a few minutes?"

"Just a few minutes."

"Yes. You act like you don't believe me. It's not something you can see through the monitors. You have to actually be there in the room."

"Why did you come here? Why didn't you ask me from there?"

"I don't know. Maybe I thought you wouldn't come if I didn't come get you."

"Think back to the moment you came through this door. What were you feeling?"

"I remember being glad I had gotten all the way down the hall without falling. Foremost in my mind, though, was the urgency of my need to convince you to come and see what I want to show you. I left Konti without a word. Will you please come back with me?"

Koh glanced at the monitor, and observed Konti pacing in agitation.

"Konti."

"Koh! Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Don't go away. Kirk will be back shortly." To Kirk, "Why the urgency?"

"Because I don't want to continue until you see what I have seen."

"What if I won't?" Koh asked thoughtfully.

"I'll face that if I have to. What can I say to convince you?"

"Nothing. Face it now. How does it make you feel?"

Kirk closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then his clear hazel eyes looked directly at Koh and he spoke calmly.

"Kill me now then."

"Are you angry?"

"No, but I'm not going back to Room E unless you go with me."

"No hostility, no aggression, no wish to attack me? You're telling me there was no thought or desire to attack me when you came down that hall to this room?"

"No, at least not consciously."

"And you would stand there, and let me kill you," Koh moved his hand back to the dial, "and not try to stop me?"

"Yes," and Kirk stood waiting for Koh to turn the dial up to a clearly lethal setting.

Koh stared for a long moment, then shook his head.

"You're incredible! Either you don't believe I'll do it, or you don't care if I do. Which is it?"

Kirk grinned. "Both. So stop playing games and come to Room E with me."

"Then you absolutely refuse to go on?"

"I'm not ruling it out entirely, but not til after you see what I want to show you."

"All right, you win. I'll come."

"Thank you."

Kirk started back down the hall without waiting for Koh. After setting the pain generator to automatically increase, and tying in the remote cutoff toggle switch, which he put in his pocket, Koh followed Kirk to Room E. He marveled at Kirk's trust in his word. Without hesitation, Kirk had returned to Room E, believing that Koh would come, simply because he had said he would. Even more astonishing was that he felt compelled to honor his word. No more games. When he entered Room E, Kirk was talking to Konti, with his back to the door. He turned when Koh entered.

"I've just told Konti what occurred in the monitoring room. He has not broken the command for silence, nor have I asked him to. The event that precipitated my trip down the hall is something I saw. I have been looking at Konti's back for hours, but suddenly it was a brand-new shocking sight. I want you to see it the way I saw it. Imagine that you are one of those coming to inspect the damage. You've heard the report, but you want proof that Kirk actually did it. I want your first reaction to the sight, not as Dr. Koh, but as an inspector. Okay?"

"Yes."

"All right. Konti, turn around, slowly."

Kirk kept his eyes trained on Koh's face. The appalled shock was obvious, followed closely by a surge of anger, which in turn was replaced by a clinical curiosity.

"Well?"

"You certainly managed to do a job on him."

"First reaction, Koh; be honest."

"I was shocked and angry."

"Put words to the anger."

"As an inspector; this is not what I think. This is what I think they will think."

"Understood."

"The filthy dog! How dare he! Death is too good for him! etc."

"Does this response differ from what you hoped to achieve?"

"No, I'd have to say it's right on the money."

"In your opinion, will the response be substantially different after another two hours of whipping?"

"Possibly in degree."

"Does your plan to clear Konti of any treason charge fall apart without another two hours of this?"

"No," Koh reluctantly admitted, "I think it will work with what we've got."

"Good. Then I quit. Not one more lash."

Kirk took a deep breath and collapsed, out cold. Koh immediately pressed the toggle switch. Konti dropped to Kirk's side.

"What happened? Is he okay?"

"He relaxed and let the pain from the wires overtake him. I have no idea if he did it on purpose; possibly not."

"How high is the dial?"

"I've turned it off, just to be safe. I don't know exactly how high it was. I'll have to check the tape in the monitoring room."

He had been checking Kirk's vital signs.

"I think he'll be fine. May be out a little longer than usual. How's your back feeling?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"Konti, your back is a mess. I don't know what Kirk did to you, but it's likely to hit you all at once. So sit down before you fall down. And don't lean up against anything. I can't fix your back til after it's been inspected, and that may be several hours."

"Fix it? What do you mean?"

"Your back needs medical attention. I told you, it's a mess."

"You don't give Kirk's back any medical attention."

"Has he ever gotten 450 lashes all at once?"

"No, I don't think so. That dinner party was only about 300. Are you saying my back looks worse than that?"

"Yes. A lot worse. If I wasn't looking at it, I wouldn't have believed he would do that to you. Not for any price."

"The price you gave him was my life."

"Yes. It's the only thing that would have worked."

Konti frowned. "You're not telling me you made it up?"

"No, the threat is very real. It's the only reason Korn agreed to this whole scheme. Like Kirk, he decided your life was worth the worst beating you are ever likely to get. But a word of warning: you will have to come through with your end of the deal. Otherwise, what he just did will be worse than wasted. Three 500-lash beatings spaced only far enough apart that you don't kill him."

"Koh! I can't do that!"

"Yes, you can. Would you despise what Kirk just did, and let them kill you anyway? You don't even have to do it yourself, though it would be better if you did. Nor do you have to do it wired to a pain generator putting out maximum non-lethal dosages. And last but not least, you can hide your emotions behind an angry front, instead of putting your emotional agony into words, continually forcing yourself to face it."

"But three of them! It's too much!"

"That's the point. They must be satisfied that you have given him a fate worse than death. The truth that he has already paid a far higher price must be kept a secret among us."

"What secret?" Kirk was awake.

"How do you feel now?" Koh inquired.

"Other than exhausted, not bad, considering. What secret?" He repeated the question.

"We were talking about the difference between what they will think, and what we know to be true. Konti doesn't want to give you three beatings."

"I don't blame him. I wouldn't either. For one thing, it's exhausting."

"Kirk, we know what else it was. I've got a tape full of your descriptions. It seemed markedly worse after the break. Do you know why?"

"I was trying to make it as awful as possible. The sooner I fell apart, the better for Konti. Didn't work though. Sometimes, stubbornness can be a disadvantage."

"So you don't consider that trip down the hall to be falling apart?"

"No, I don't. Would you consider one unpremeditated action falling apart?"

"Considering what that action was, no, I wouldn't. But as you found out, I was prepared for you to be completely out of control."

"I'm sorry I scared you. You too, Konti. I shouldn't have left without telling you why."

"You can't exactly be blamed for not thinking clearly under the circumstances," Konti reasoned.

"If that's the extent of your falling apart, I would say you have unbelievable control. But then, I already knew that. I will promise you this: I will never make you do this again. There will be no reruns of this experiment. I may play with the upper ranges on the dial again, but no more whipping parties."

"Thank you. How high was it anyway?" Kirk asked.

"I don't know exactly. I haven't been back to check. But tell me, were you aware of any increase after you quit beating Konti?"

"Yes. My impression is that it never stopped increasing. It was a constantly increasing pressure all day long, except during the break, when you turned it off. And it's off now, but it was still increasing when I passed out."

"Did you do that on purpose?" Koh wanted to know.

"No. You think I can pass out just by wanting to?"

"At those pain levels, yes. The only reason you don't pass out is because you don't want to."

"Maybe. I think you give me more power than I have."

The discussion moved from debriefing to strategy concerning the expected inspectors. Koh refused to let Konti go home until his back was treated. Kirk thought it best if they came directly to Room E, and the sooner the better, while the blood on the floor was still fresh. Koh left to call Korn, and was back a few minutes later.

"They'll be here within the hour. And Kirk, I checked the tape. You want to guess how high the dial was?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

"460," Koh reported.

"Hmm- You like to live dangerously. Konti would not have been happy with you, and Korn would have had a fit."

"The manuals are always conservative. I would have risked as high as 500, if you were still conscious. But I'm curious about your perceptions."

"We can talk about that tomorrow. Right now, we need to be getting ready for visitors." Kirk got to his feet. "Ideally, they should be able to feel the tension in the atmosphere as soon as they walk in the door."

"What tension?" Koh quipped.

"That's the problem. There isn't any. Konti's still basking in the peace of the Lord, and I'm too exhausted to feel tense. But the real problem is there's no hostility among us. Any astute observer will notice, even if they can't quite pinpoint the reason it feels wrong." Kirk turned his head. "Konti, I don't want to deprive you of that peace, but how well can you fake agony and anger?"

"I don't know. I'm sure I'm not as good an actor as you are," Konti claimed.

"Let's try it and let Koh be the judge. Start by feeling the pain in your back. Focus on it; sense how very awful it feels. Show it to me on your face, in your breathing, your body language. That's good. Now keep that in focus. Let it build to overwhelming, and it will if you let it. While that's happening, I want you to think about the source of the pain. Think about the long hours of standing with your hands on your head. Think about the intense pain of every lash, over and over and over, multiplied incredibly as the hours dragged on.

"Here's where you have to create an alternate reality. I don't want you to think about the peace you enjoyed, or any of the words I said. Put that reality in a box; close and lock the door. If you let it out of the box, it may cost you your life, so bury it deep. How's the pain? Is it building?"

Konti nodded.

"Good. Now, here's your new reality. Your pain, your agony was caused by this slave who's been nothing but trouble. You didn't want him in the first place, but you've tried to be kind and considerate - even taken care of him. But now, he's repaid your kindness with this unspeakable outrage. You are absolutely furious! You've been violated! Let the agony feed your anger. Express it; let it out. Death is too good for him! Too easy! You want him to suffer long and hard for what he has done to you."

Konti had been almost getting it, but suddenly, he crumpled, putting his face in his hands, and shaking his head. Kirk turned to Koh.

"If he can't do it, you should separate us. Konti can lay on the floor, face to the wall, and pretend to be half-conscious. Maybe they won't try to make him talk. We can lock me in Room A. Did I see some handcuffs in the drawer? Come to think of it, those would be useful even in here. Leg manacles would be good too, if you've got them."

"Yes, I do. We're running out of time. I agree it would be safer to 'play dead' so to speak, but infinitely better to play the scene for all it's worth, if you can. I'll fetch the restraints; you talk to Konti. He's the one that will have to decide what he can do."

Koh left.

"Konti, listen to me. It's not just your life at stake. My life is already forfeit, so what happens to me is irrelevant. But Koh is in this up to his ears, and I suspect your father is too. You can do for them what you won't do for yourself. You were getting it, until you started thinking about beating me. You aren't going to beat me. It's that alternate reality, ungrateful slave, who just happens to look like me. Separate the two, and you can do this."

Suddenly Kirk gasped. "Uh-oh. Koh just sent me a signal. Must mean they're here. Konti, decide, now!"

"I'll do it."

"Pick me up and throw me at the wall."

"What?"

"Pick up the slave and throw him at the wall. It's the outrage of the thing, as much as the pain. And keep doing it til they walk through that door."

So Konti did, three times. The third time, he had Kirk lifted over his head when the door opened. He hurled Kirk at the far wall, and turned to face the visitors. Kirk landed with a thud and lay still. He began praying fervently for Konti, that he could pull this off. Konti drew himself erect as he recognized two very senior officers with Korn. Koh was last and stayed by the door. The others spread out before him.

Korn spoke. "At ease, Konti. Turn around."

Konti presented his backside for inspection. No one said a word for several long moments. Finally Konti turned to face them and broke the silence.

"I must apologize for being out of uniform."

"Apology noted," Korn replied. The others did not speak. "Did Kirk do this?"

"He did. Koh threatened him." Which was true, but Konti said it with contempt, conveying a far different meaning. "But he has not yet learned the full meaning of the word 'threat'. Believe me, he will pay for this, and pay dearly. He will wish he had let Koh kill him. But killing's too easy. I mean to make him suffer.

"He forced me to take him as a slave, and he's been nothing but trouble. I tried to be fair, even took care of him, and this is how he repays my kindness. It's outrageous! It's absolutely-!" Konti took a deep breath and composed himself. "Forgive me, I forget myself."

"Indeed. Kirk! Stand up!"

Kirk stood up slowly, but cowered against the wall, with lowered eyes.

"Come here!"

Kirk tried to stay out of Konti's reach, and seemed none too eager to approach within Korn's either.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

Kirk shook his head, kept his eyes on the floor, and conveyed nervous anxiety with his body language. Korn took a step towards him, slapped him across the face, and sent him flying. Kirk would have stayed down, but Korn called him back, and did it again. And a third time. During all of this Konti kept himself at attention, neither approving nor disapproving. Korn quit, satisfied that Konti was not going to react to his treatment of Kirk.

"Koh, see to Konti's back. We'll let ourselves out. I'm sure you will keep Kirk adequately restrained."

"Yes, sir." Koh pulled out the handcuffs he had put in his pocket.

Korn left, followed by the two senior officers.

"Konti, go on down to Room A. I'll be with you shortly."

Konti left without a word. Koh stooped to handcuff Kirk.

Kirk whispered. "Koh, lock the door. You don't know that they won't be back."

Koh did not reply, but did lock the door. Kirk promptly went to sleep. Debriefing could wait til morning. Koh also locked the outer doors, so no one could enter unannounced. Then he patched up Konti's back. Over Konti's protest, he applied a local anesthetic, and a liberal quantity of synthskin. He hooked him up to an IV, and gave him several injections. Konti wanted to know what was in them. Koh merely replied that he didn't tell Kirk what was in them, so why should he tell Konti. With an admonition to behave himself, because he, Koh, had to answer to Konti's father, Koh bid him good night. Konti was asleep in less than five minutes.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

About 4AM, Koh was wakened from a sound sleep by the outer door buzzer. It was Korn.

"Sorry to disturb you at this hour, Koh. I cannot come during the day - too much watched. And even at night, I can only do this once. How is he?"

"Physically, he'll recover. I'd like to keep him for a day or two; give that back time to really heal. Emotionally, I don't know. We didn't talk much. I wanted him to sleep. I've got him sedated, but I can wake him with a stimulant if I need to."

"No, don't do that. Kirk is the one I really need to talk to anyway. You don't have him sedated too, do you?"

"Heavens no! Kirk doesn't lose sleep worrying about things."

He turned on the monitor which showed Kirk asleep on the floor of Room E.

"How would you like me to wake him? I can blast him with pain, turn on the mic and talk to him, or go down the hall and unlock the door. But you won't get his natural response, until he's sure there's no audience."

"Let's go down the hall."

Kirk woke the instant he heard the key in the lock, but he did not move. Mentally prepared for anything, he waited to see who would enter.

Korn preceded Koh into the room. As the light came up, he saw Kirk in the corner exactly where he had left him hours before. The only change was the addition of handcuffs. Kirk must have been truly exhausted to have slept in that position for hours without moving.

"Kirk, get up. I need to talk to you."

Kirk rose and stood quietly with lowered eyes, this time, well within reach of Korn's hand.

"Konti told me that you shed the slave character like taking off a coat, whenever he wants to talk. Will you do that for me, too?"

"Yes, in private." Kirk raised clear eyes to Korn's face.

"Why did you do it?" was Korn's urgent question.

"Koh told me that Konti would be charged with treason if I didn't."

"And you believed him."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I have been working with Koh for weeks. We play lots of games and he loves to tease, but I know how he thinks, and I know truth when I hear it."

"Then he wasn't just trying to torture you?"

"Oh, he was doing that too. Quite successfully, I might add."

"You don't mind?"

"No. Since I was going to do the deed anyway, I saw no reason not to satisfy Koh as well. Unfortunately, I forgot the effect my words would have on Konti. Very nearly a fatal mistake."

"You said once that you could make Konti hate you. Is that what you have done?"

"You think Konti hates me?"

"Doesn't he?"

Kirk turned to Koh, a delighted smile on his face.

"If Konti can fool his father, do you think it's safe to assume he fooled the others as well?"

"Yes. It was really quite good. Whose idea was it to throw you around?" Koh inquired.

"Mine. A spur-of-the-moment thing, because you hadn't gotten back with the handcuffs. We couldn't just be standing here."

"Are you telling me he faked it? It was all an act? I had heard you were a superb actor, but Konti has never done anything like that before." Korn shook his head, not quite believing it yet.

"On the contrary, he does it most afternoons. It began as a game, but has become deadly serious. He knows it's imperative that no one guess what he really thinks of me. He's been doing it for my sake, because I asked him to. Today, he realized the stakes were higher. I don't think he would have done it to save his own life. But for yours and Koh's lives, he would sacrifice his honor."

"His honor?"

"Yes. Konti's problem is that he cannot view me as a slave who deserves no honor. On top of that, he genuinely likes me. It hurts him deeply to treat me with dishonor. But he will do what must be done. Interestingly, he continues to be amazed that I harbor no anger towards him, but it has not occurred to him to be angry with me for what I did to him today."

"And what of Koh?"

"Koh shouldn't be in any danger, as long as we keep up the nightly torture sessions. Unless we have an audience, though we could handle that if we knew they were here."

"How so?"

"The atmosphere in here would have to change from one of cooperation and humor, to adversarial grim suffering. We could do it, but it wouldn't be nearly as much fun. And most of his experiments would have to be shelved until the audience left."

"Why is that?"

"Because they depend on honest verbal input from me, which wouldn't fit the picture we want the audience to see."

"Hm. And what of anger?"

"I'm sure I could dredge up some fake anger to make it look realistic. Sullen fatalism would probably fit better though."

"Tell me about your real emotions. From Koh's reports, you never get angry. He constantly pushes you and stretches your limits. You never push back. Not only that, you actually help him do it to you. Even today, you were angry for Konti, but not for yourself. Why?"

Kirk chuckled. "Konti's been trying to figure that out for three months. Koh just takes it as a given, and goes on from there. I can't explain it. Just say I'm crazy."

"That is unsatisfactory. Try again."

"I knew before, that I was not particularly afraid of pain. Koh has enlarged my experience of the word, taken me places I didn't know existed. Having been there once, I do not fear a return journey. Anything that reduces the number of things I'm afraid of makes me stronger. Anything that makes me stronger is something I value, regardless of the level of present unpleasantness."

It wasn't the whole truth, but Kirk hoped it made enough sense to satisfy.

"Hm. I see. One last thing: Koh told you about Act II of our little play?"

"The public beatings? Yes. Any specific instructions, or just make it look as awful as possible?"

"Koh, I told you to tell them everything." Korn turned an accusing gaze on Koh.

"Kirk doesn't care. Konti is the one who needed the details, and I did tell him." He turned to Kirk. "What we're talking about is three 500-lash beatings spaced only far enough apart that he doesn't kill you in the process."

"How many did we do today?"

"450."

"And how close together do you think we can manage?"

"I don't know. Depends on your vitals."

"Guess. Are we talking hours, days, or what?"

"Definitely not hours; probably less than a week."

"For effect, three days in a row would be best. You don't want it to look like three separate beatings. You want the effects to be cumulative."

"That's what could kill you," Koh declared.

"I know I can handle one such beating, probably two. Can't you pump me full of something that would make me survive the third?"

"Maybe, but I can't stop the beating part way through if I guessed wrong."

"Konti could stop if I passed out, claiming he wanted me to feel every lash. Then we could pick it up the next day, and keep going for as many days as it took to get to 1500. Should make for an interesting week. How long will it take Konti to recover?"

"Two or three days. And that's with synthskin, anesthetics, IV's, and sedatives. And I can't give you any synthskin."

"And I don't want sedatives. Aside from shock, the biggest problem is likely to be loss of blood. Infection shouldn't be a problem until later. Well, I think it's doable, but I'll bow to your medical judgment."

Koh turned to Korn. "See- what did I tell you? Konti responds with, 'I can't do that!' Kirk responds with an analysis of the situation, the possible problems, and a conclusion that there's no particular reason why he can't do the impossible. And not one minute of that analysis is spent counting the cost to himself."

"Konti may say he can't do it, but he can, and he will. I'll talk to him," Kirk promised.

"He will too," Koh told Korn. "Can you imagine persuading someone to give you a 1500-lash beating? And he'll make it sound eminently reasonable."

"Well, it is! There's a perfectly reasonable reason for doing this. It will save three lives. Besides, I'm the cause of all this trouble to begin with. Makes perfect sense that I should pay."

"Do you really believe that?" Koh challenged.

"Doesn't matter, as long as Konti believes it, which he probably won't, but I can try anyway. Do you have any thoughts on a location for this show?"

"The steps outside the State Assembly," Korn revealed.

"That's good; so when I pass out, I can fall down the steps. Very nice touch. That idea has Koh's fingerprint on it."

"You know me too well." Koh smiled.

"Do I understand correctly from all of this that you will continue to cooperate fully?" Korn wanted to know.

"Of course. Did you doubt it?"

"What is the likelihood of your ability to act in the midst of all that agony?"

"As long as I'm conscious. Don't worry, I won't stand there in stoic silence. That would not be in character at all. Besides, it'd be very boring to watch."

Korn left and Kirk went back to sleep. The next day, Koh fed him the steak dinner, as well as glass after glass of water and juice. Kirk worked out several times on his own initiative. Koh agreed to test the wires Kirk was wearing, and several needed replacing, due to the rough-housing of the day before. He even tried working on a couple of experiments, but he was clearly preoccupied and not focusing on his work. In the late afternoon, Kirk asked about it. They were sitting at the table in Room C with yet another glass of juice.

"Koh, what's bugging you? You're troubled about something. Is Konti not doing well? Has Korn sent you more bad news? Are you worried about visitors? Do you want me wearing the handcuffs? Give. What's the problem?"

"I've got the outer door locked. No one can take us by surprise. Korn hasn't sent any news, good or bad. And Konti's progressing well. I'm going to let him out of the sedative for a few hours this evening. I'm hoping he'll sleep naturally tonight. I'll let him get up tomorrow. He'll be stiff and sore, but well on his way to recovery."

"Koh, I'm not expecting medical treatment at all, but if you do anything, don't give me sedatives. I want to be up and moving as soon as I'm conscious. I want to be mentally alert. And I don't need pain-killers, or drugs to make me sleep. But you still haven't told me what's bothering you."

"1500 lashes is what's bothering me. Why isn't it bothering you? What's the most you've ever had before?"

"I wasn't counting them, but so what? What about it bothers you?"

"The enormity of it, I guess. It's one thing to say, three times as many as you gave Konti; it's quite another to add up the total. I guess I didn't think you'd go as far as you did."

"Koh, it isn't like you to be appalled, or even regretful. Why is this different from what we've been doing for weeks?" Kirk needed to understand.

"It's the physical, visible damage - very different from those wires you're wearing."

"But you weren't bothered by what Khlat did on board ship those first three days."

"How would you know? You could neither see nor hear me."

"I would have sensed it. I remember your gentle but efficient hands."

"At that point, you were no more than a prisoner to me. A pretty important one, mind you, and I was under a lot of pressure to make you talk. I knew very little about you: only that you held Khlat's tactics in contempt, and it took a lot to exhaust you; neither of which came as a surprise. But now, thanks to your transparency, I know you intimately. I know how you think; I know what you feel. It seems as if I know you as well as I know Konti, maybe better. And Konti is my closest friend. I will not admit this to Korn, but I think of you as a friend."

"I'm glad. That means a lot to me. I want to be a friend to you. Okay, I believe it bothers you. But we have another day or two before it's a present reality. I need you to pretend it doesn't bother you, for Konti's sake. This is going to be very difficult for him. And doubly so, if we act like we're afraid of it. Can you make it just one more game we're playing?" Kirk grinned hopefully.

"Is that what you think, that it's just a game?"

"No, it's much more serious. Lives are at stake. For me, it's closer to a performance than a game. But if you treat it as a game like all the rest - in other words, act normally - then it becomes more acceptable to do, in Konti's mind."

"All right. I'll try," Koh sighed.

"Good. Go write us a new program for Room F. That'll keep your mind occupied this evening, and give us something interesting to do tomorrow. Maybe even a rerun of that latest enhancement drug. Find something to occupy Konti's mind. The last thing we want is to sit around being bored and anxious while we wait."

xxxx

A couple of hours later, Kirk went to visit Konti. He was conscious, but groggy.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like a limp dish rag. What did Koh pump me full of?"

"The sedatives will start wearing off. Things should get better from here on. How does your back feel?"

"What back? I can hardly tell I have arms and legs. I can't feel the back at all."

"Feeling will start coming back soon. When it does, it's likely to get pretty bad for awhile. You may decide you'd rather be knocked out again."

"You wouldn't," Konti stubbornly declared.

"The things I choose aren't always entirely sane. But you're right: I would rather be functional ASAP, and the presence or absence of pain is a minor matter in comparison."

Konti chuckled. "Yes. I remember that first night after the mindsifter. You were determined to be mobile, cracked ribs not withstanding. So if you were me, how would you get functional?"

Kirk laughed. "I'll tell you, but if you try it, Koh will probably have a fit."

"Let him. It's my body."

"All right then. First, I would acknowledge the pain price to be paid. I don't know how bad it will be; I only know it will be worse than if I take the easy route. Secondly, I determine that I will push myself as long and as hard as it takes to accomplish my goal. A healthy stubborn streak is a useful asset at this point. Third, I divide the goal into small, specific steps. Then I conquer each step one at a time, and I refuse to give up until I am fully functional."

"Sounds good to me. What small step would you start with?"

"Standing up is probably a major step. I would break it down into smaller pieces."

They worked together at it for four hours, after which Konti could not only stand and walk, but do push ups and jumping jacks. Kirk called a halt when Konti admitted to being tired enough to sleep through most anything. Kirk lay on the floor, having told Konti to wake him if he needed to. As he drifted off to sleep, Kirk reflected that they had not broached the subject of the upcoming beating. Oh well, that could wait until tomorrow.

Koh turned out the light in the monitoring room. He had known what Kirk would do if left alone with Konti, and he had not been disappointed. But he had also taken Kirk's advice, and had several activities planned for the next day. As for the day after tomorrow, he still dreaded it, but would try to hide the fact from Konti.

xxxx

Kirk was already in the weight room when Koh went in to examine Konti the next morning. Pronouncing the back healing nicely, he removed the IV, and prescribed light activity for the day. When they convened for breakfast, Kirk had a tall glass of water and another of juice. Konti remarked on it, but Kirk just grinned and told him Koh was worried about dehydration. Koh didn't deny it.

They spent the morning in Room F and the afternoon in Room D, with weight workouts spaced in between. Though it occupied the time, Kirk could tell that Koh's heart wasn't in it. The sooner this beating business was over, the sooner Koh would return to normal. Kirk tried several times to crack jokes, but both Konti and Koh just looked at him. Finally, after supper, which for Kirk was again juice and water, the three of them sat down to talk in Room A, so Kirk could plug in the IV's. Kirk took charge of the conversation, since neither of the others seemed disposed to do so.

"Koh, can you give us a run-down on what's supposed to happen tomorrow?"

"At noon, the two of you leave here in Konti's flitter, and go directly to the State Assembly. You arrive during the mid-day break. There should be quite a crowd. Konti gives you a 500-lash beating on the outside steps of the building. Should take about four hours. Then you both go home to Konti's house, and try to recover enough to do it again the next day. You will not come back here tomorrow night."

"Why not?"

"It's my professional opinion that you'll be in no shape to make that walk, and if, by sheer force of will, you are, it would be out of character for you to display that willpower. No, I will make a house call tomorrow evening. I don't expect you back here until next week." Deprived of his monitors, Koh wasn't sure what to do with his hands. He finally tucked them under his arms, giving his body language a stubborn defiance that didn't quite fit his words.

"Okay. We need a script for the scene on the steps. I assume you're talking about the landing half way up. I agree it would be very dramatic to have me pass out and fall down the stairs. I'm just not sure it fits my character to stand there completely unrestrained while Konti beats me senseless. Is there something we could tie my hands to?"

"Not really. We'd have to change the location entirely."

"I'd rather not do that. It's a good location otherwise. We'll just have to get creative and work with what we've got."

They discussed several ways in which Kirk might display fear and agony. After about fifteen minutes, Kirk was satisfied that it was doable. He turned to the script for Konti. He himself would likely not have to say anything. They discussed what Konti would say, and how, for about thirty minutes. Finally Kirk turned to Konti, who had not said a word during the entire conversation thus far.

"Talk to me. What are you thinking? Can you do this?"

"I will certainly be physically well enough to deliver 500 lashes. I could have done it today. Was glad I didn't have to. The script you're working on: probably. It's not really all that different from what we've already done. Obviously, I don't want to do this. Just as obviously, I have to, so I will."

"Good. Two words of advice. Don't think about the task as a whole. Break it down into smaller pieces. You don't have to survive 1500 lashes, or even 500. Just focus on the present moment, this lash, or maybe these five or ten.

"The other thing you need to remember is that I could do this in perfect peace, standing there in motionless acceptance. What you will see instead, if I can pull this off, is a gradual disintegration of the will to endure. You need to refuse to let what you see get into your heart. Cling to what you know to be true. Regardless of what it looks like, that perfect peace is sustaining me. I'm not concerned about surviving it, nor enduring the agony. I'm only concerned about giving a believable performance. That's what will save the lives at stake."


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Kezak happened to be on the street outside the State Assembly when Konti and Kirk arrived the next day. He noticed the crowd, and pushed his way to the front. Observing what was going on, he turned away. He had seen several of these scenes Konti and Kirk had put on. But as he was leaving, it seemed to him that the response of the crowd was more tense than usual. He inquired of an acquaintance.

"Rumor has it that Kirk beat Konti three days ago, and Konti is getting even."

"That doesn't make sense. Why would Konti let him do that?"

"Don't know, but I got a good look at Konti's back - it's covered in synthskin. So maybe Kirk didn't do it, but someone did, and Kirk's paying, but good. Somebody said Konti's going to give him 500 lashes. They'll be at it for hours, if Kirk lasts that long."

"Well, thanks for the info. I've got errands to run, or I'd stay to watch. See ya."

About an hour and a half later, Kezak was back, having completed the essential tasks. Two errands he had put off in favor of a return to the scene. Many had returned to work, but there was still a fair-sized crowd. But it was not a crowd that was enjoying itself. They watched in grim, morbid fascination, but were not entertained.

As he listened, Kezak decided it was because Konti's anger was too out-of-control. It made people wary. And Kirk himself was actively afraid of Konti. He was also afraid of falling down the steps. He'd been inching away from the edge, and Konti had just forced him back. If he lost his balance, he would surely fall down the stone steps to the street below.

Kezak continued to watch and listen as the count passed 200. He began to wonder how he would play this situation if he were Kirk. If he were really afraid of Konti, he wouldn't be so obvious about it, as Kirk was. Come to think of it, Kirk was no fool, which meant he _wanted_ Konti to know how terrified he was. But that didn't make sense either. Nor did it make sense that he would want the crowd to know. Unless the whole thing was an act, and he wasn't in fact terrified at all.

The more he watched, the more he became convinced that the whole thing was a superb performance. The only thing real about it was the lashes themselves. Konti wasn't truly angry, and Kirk wasn't afraid, but his back was a mess and getting worse by the minute. The count was now up over 300, and Kirk was starting to look as if he might come unglued at any time.

He'd been flinching, gasping and grimacing all along. Now he began to shake, sway on his feet, and shake his head. He was apparently actively trying not to scream. He twisted his hands together, pounded them against his forehead, even let them slide off his head. Every time he did that, Konti laid the next two lashes on his arms, and yelled at him to get his hands back on his head. But he did it repeatedly, as if he couldn't help himself.

At lash 387, Kirk suddenly stumbled, fell to one knee, and put his hands on the stone step beneath his feet. He swayed precariously and the crowd gasped, thinking he was about to fall. But he recovered himself, and Konti forced him to stand up again. Kezak thought to himself, _You better not do that very many times, or they'll know you did it on purpose._

About 25 lashes later, he did it again, but this time, Kirk actually stepped down a couple of steps, turned and fell on the steps, facing Konti. To Kezak, it looked choreographed, but the crowd obviously thought it was a real fall. Kirk was very good. And his ability to perform under stress was incredible. That back had to be just about killing him.

Kirk dragged himself back into position, but twenty lashes later, simply crumpled in on himself. This time, Konti let him stay on his knees, doubled over, and still precariously near the edge. Every few lashes, he inched closer to the edge, as if trying to get away. It came to Kezak suddenly that Kirk intended to end this by falling down the steps. He wondered if Konti knew; probably.

As the count drew closer to 500, Kirk gradually ceased all movement and sound. He had started moaning after the second fall, but quit that as well. The only sign that he was still conscious was his clenched fists. That, and the fact that he didn't fall, but continued to crouch, perched on the edge.

On the 497th lash, Kirk fell down the steps. He went completely limp and simply rolled. There was no way for Kezak to tell whether Kirk really passed out or not. He managed to land face down, so possibly not. For an instant, the crowd was completely silent. Then the reaction set in. From overheard comments, Kezak concluded they were about evenly divided on whether Kirk was dead, or merely unconscious.

Konti came down the steps after Kirk, moving slowly. Obviously tired, he was also angry that Kirk had thwarted him. When he was within a few steps of the bottom, Kirk moved. Not much, but enough to prove he wasn't dead. Konti delivered the last three lashes to Kirk's legs. With this prodding, Kirk struggled to his feet, and stumbled off towards the flitter.

Kezak had to restrain himself from applauding. Those around him believed it real, and it wouldn't do to disturb that belief. But a visit to Konti's home was in order. Perhaps in two hours. Kezak left the swiftly dispersing crowd, and went to the club for a meal and thoughtful solitude.

xxxx

Kirk shed the act as soon as they were safely inside Konti's home with the door shut. He straightened, looked Konti in the eye, and grinned.

"Well, how was it?"

"Disgustingly awful! You're absolutely incredible. A superb performance. If mine was half as good, we have them thoroughly convinced. You had me more than half convinced. When I asked if you could walk in here, I would not have been surprised if you couldn't. And that trip down the steps - I had no idea whether you were even alive! Whose idea was it to do this on the steps?"

"Koh's or Korn's, but I agreed it was a good idea, so you can blame me."

"Don't talk to me about blame."

Konti turned away and went into the bedroom. Kirk washed his feet, then fetched a towel to sit on. This had become common practice on beating days, and he did it without thinking. He sat on the floor at Konti's feet, which had become their talk-time custom. Konti had his face buried in his hands.

"Konti, you must not let bitterness creep into your soul. Regardless of what we make them think, there is no anger, fear, or blame between us. I know you're tired, but you must win the battle against bitterness. It is a poison that will destroy you if you let it. Remember the perfect peace? Do you harbor anything against me because of what I did to you in Room E?"

Konti looked up in alarm. "No! Of course not! Did you think I did?"

Kirk shook his head. "Had I thought so, I would have brought it up before now. But if your response is, 'of course not', why do you think my response to today's activity would be any different?"

"I guess because it seemed to be so much worse. I know you said to ignore what it looked like, but I can't. And the other thing is, you might think differently tomorrow or the next day. I can't even imagine what your back is going to look like."

"Konti, there is nothing in my heart against you, and there won't be when this is finished either. You must believe me!" Kirk pleaded.

Before Konti could respond, the door chime announced Koh's arrival. He had not witnessed the beating because it would have been contrary to his expected routine.

"Congratulations to you both. I've just talked to Korn. He has three eye-witnesses who don't know it was faked. They all swore that Kirk was half dead, and Konti hated him. I'm glad to see they're wrong about the half dead part."

"I don't hate him either," Konti readily admitted, "and he's trying to convince me that he won't hate me by the time this is over."

Koh started to examine Kirk's back as he talked to Konti. "You think he will? I don't. Think about everything we've done to him since he got here. Have you ever seen a sign of hate in him? I haven't. All the hours I've spent pushing him, he's never pushed back. This week was the first time he ever refused to be pushed. And even then, he wasn't angry. I don't think he knows how to hate."

Kirk tried to explain how he saw the issue. "I know that hate destroys the one who hates, and I don't want ever to hate anyone. But Konti, there's more to this than an abstract refusal to hate. It's the power of Jesus Christ at work in me that enables me to refuse to hate. But this situation is easy. I'm not even tempted to hate. Your life is worth every minute of agony, and I'm more than willing to pay the pain price. Koh's life is worth it; Korn's life is worth it. Even if I don't survive it, your lives are worth it."

Konti stood up and took two steps toward the window, trying to get some emotional distance. "What is it about you that you would give your life to save ours? No Federation prisoner would do such a thing. Not one slave in a hundred would do such a thing." He turned to confront Kirk. "And don't tell me it's because your life is already forfeit. You know I'm not going to kill you until I'm forced to."

"Hm- It's a thought. Would save you from having to beat me to death. It'd be easier on everybody, and would certainly solve the treason question. Maybe you should seriously consider it."

Konti looked appalled but said nothing.

Koh interrupted. "Afraid not. Korn considered it, but decided it wouldn't work. They would just say you had talked him into it, in order to avoid telling what you know."

"That might even be true, if I knew something. But anyway, that means you have to do it the hard way. I'm sorry, Konti. And who knows, I might even survive it. Though, I must tell you: Koh hasn't admitted it, but he doesn't think I will."

"How do you know that?!" Koh protested.

Kirk grinned. "Notice he doesn't deny it." Turning to Koh, "I told you, I know how you think. You didn't have to tell me in so many words. But I would like to know medically what your concern is."

"You mean, exactly what is it that's going to kill you?"

"Yes."

"There's several possibilities. Most likely the shock will get you. There's only so much injury the body can tolerate before it shuts down. Symptoms to watch for include disorientation, mental confusion, dizziness, coldness in the extremities, uncontrollable shaking, nausea, numbness, and absence of pain. If any of these start happening, you've got maybe thirty minutes. By the time you pass out, you've got less than ten. Now it's possible to pass out from the pain itself, as you well know. So you might pass out and not be dying.

"Of course, it's also possible that you may break your neck falling down those steps. You might also sustain a spinal cord injury, either from the fall, or from the beating itself. This would be accompanied by a severe, sudden pain, possibly enough to knock you out. The pain might or might not lessen with time. The most obvious symptom is paralysis, the extent of which depends on the location of the injury. Neither the paralysis nor the injury would necessarily kill you, but a permanent disability such as this would force Konti to kill you. Lastly, you might sustain an infection, which again would not be an immediate death, but might in the long run, kill you, or necessitate Konti's doing it.

"With all that in mind, I am here to clean your back, which will be anything but pleasant. Also to hydrate you, to help prevent shock setting in. Have you had any symptoms as yet?"

"No. I don't suppose you can clean the back while I'm sitting here on the floor?"

"I'd rather not try. Konti's bed would be best; the bathroom would do."

Kirk rose without effort and walked to the bathroom, explaining it was easier to clean blood off of than Konti's bed. Konti came too, insisting his bathroom was big enough for three.

"Can you do this job so it won't show afterwards? Visible medical attention is not part of the program." Kirk grinned, but it was a serious question.

"It will look like you took a shower, which you will. Now, this is going to hurt, badly. I can give you a local anesthetic, which will neither show, nor affect your mental processes. But it will help you get through the next several hours."

"I'd rather you didn't. The trouble with pain-killers is they wear off. I'd rather face it now, than later. And don't worry. I can hold still."

"All right. Have it your way. But I warned you. And you can change your mind anytime."

Kirk grinned. "Thanks, but I won't."

Kezak arrived unannounced shortly after Koh had left. Kirk had IV's in both arms, and instructions to consume four to eight glasses of water that evening, and again in the morning. Konti went to the door, leaving Kirk in the bedroom.

It was obvious to Kezak within the first two minutes that Konti was not glad to see him, and wished to get rid of him as quickly as possible without arousing suspicion. Kezak took the offered drink and sat down, amused with the situation.

"Konti, I appreciate your seeing me unannounced like this. I know you're tired, and I won't keep you long." Kezak put his glass down and sat forward. "You know my profession, and the fact that I can spot talent in unusual places. I saw an absolutely superb performance today, and I just had to come see you about it. Such talent should not be wasted. Don't get me wrong - your performance was good too, but his was absolutely astounding! Not one person in that whole crowd knows it was faked, and even I don't know whether he really passed out or not. Did he?"

"I'm afraid I do not understand what you are talking about."

"Konti, this is me, Kezak, the talent master. I do not work for the State. I do not tell them what I know. I don't bother them, and they leave me alone. Your secret is safe with me. I don't know why you were doing what I saw today, but no one will find out from me that it was a fake."

"That what was a fake?"

"Konti, why won't you trust me?"

He paused. Konti did not reply.

"Oh, I see. You cannot afford to trust anyone. That serious, is it?"

"What is it that you want?"

"I want to see Kirk. I want to talk with the two of you about exploiting his talent. You could make a great deal of money. I have not seen such talent in several years. I can't stand to see it wasted! Please, Konti, trust me. I promise you won't be sorry."

"Kirk is a Federation prisoner. His life expectancy is very short."

"No, he's not; he's a slave, and you own him. You made that very clear in the State Assembly. Are you planning to kill him then?"

"The situation is rather complicated."

"Tell me about it."

"Kezak, if I trust you, I am not only placing my life in your hands, but that of three others as well. And none of the four of us will be in any position to pay you back if you betray us. Even admitting this much is risking more than I should. So tell me truly. Your only interest in Kirk is the money to be made by exploiting his acting ability?"

"A mere 'yes' could be a misleading answer. If I do my job right, the money will take care of itself. I am interested in Kirk as a person. People with unusual talents have unusual needs. Sometimes it's just a listening ear from someone who understands and accepts them for who they are. Sometimes there are practical things I can help with. As his owner, you are facing unusual challenges. I want to help if I can."

Konti cracked his knuckles as he stared at Kezak. Finally he sighed. "I doubt if there's anything you can do, but I've decided to trust you. Frankly it's because you're interested in Kirk as a person. Kirk!" he called.

Kirk appeared in the doorway. "Yes, sir?" His tone and body language conveyed a mixture of apprehension and sullenness.

Kezak was again impressed, but wise enough to hold his peace. Just because Konti trusted him did not mean that Kirk would. He must proceed very carefully.

"Come here."

Konti observed that Kirk was effectively hiding the IV needles in his arms without being obvious about it. Did Kirk think he was making a mistake? Or had he been unable to hear the conversation?

"Kezak, will you tell Kirk what you just told me?"

"Kirk, I applaud your superb performance of this afternoon. I understand you are playing a dangerous game with high stakes. I have not, and will not, betray your secret. I have come because I want to help. Konti has decided to trust me. Will you?"

"Sir, I am afraid I do not understand the question."

Kirk kept his eyes on the floor.

"What will it take to convince you?"

"Convince me of what, sir?"

Abruptly Kezak changed tactics. He drew his knife and held it out to Kirk.

"Here, take this."

Kirk backed up a step and shook his head.

"I insist. Take it."

He stood up, and Kirk backed up another step.

"If you cannot trust me, then you better kill me. Take the knife!"

Kirk shuddered and backed away another step. Kezak turned to Konti.

"Nothing I say will make him break character. Will he trust me if you tell him to?"

"Kezak, put the knife away. I've seen enough blood for one day. You said you wanted to help. What could you do?"

"Well, it would help if I knew what the purpose of today's show was. But if you won't tell me, I'll just set that aside for now. I would like to engineer your shows for you. People will pay good money to be entertained. Today's show was not entertaining. It was too extreme. People were uncomfortable."

"It wasn't supposed to be entertainment!"

"But you were performing for someone. I maintain that if we engineer it right, the people you're performing for will pay to see the show, instead of performing for free in the city streets. If I advertise it right, everyone in the State Assembly would pay to see Kirk, the Slave."

"Well, if he survives the week, I'll think about it." Konti nodded abruptly as if to dismiss an underling.

Kezak tried one more time. "You were going to tell me why he might not."

Konti glanced briefly at Kirk. "Perhaps later. It grows late. I do not want to keep you longer."

Konti rose, and Kezak permitted himself to be ushered out the door. They had closed ranks against him. He would try again in a day or two.

After Kezak had gone, Konti questioned Kirk.

"Why don't you trust Kezak?"

"It's not safe to trust anyone," Kirk stated adamantly.

"But he knows!"

"What he thinks he knows and what he can prove are two different things. If I break character, he's got proof. Why do you trust him?"

"Because he said he was interested in you as a person. Anyway, it won't matter if you don't survive the next two days."


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Kirk slowly climbed the stone steps carrying the whip. Konti preceded him and stood waiting for him. Kirk's dread was apparent in every move. From the first lash, Kirk doubted his ability to pull this off. The intense pain was going to be a serious distraction. He had wanted to go all the way to 500; now he wasn't sure he could do half that.

His instinct was to become very still, concentrating all his energy on staying conscious and upright. But at all costs, he must not do that. There must be a visible reaction to every lash, even if he couldn't last past 100. Moreover, today's reactions must be different from yesterday's. He condensed all of what he had done before into the first hundred lashes, except for collapsing onto his knees. The second hundred, he expanded the sound effects to include howling and even some screaming. The third hundred, he added very agitated body movements, making it appear that he simply could not hold still. The fourth hundred he gradually fell apart, ending up face down on the edge of the stone step. He still sobbed, pounded a clenched fist on the stone, and randomly kicked a foot in the air.

He reflected wryly that this was a very ineffective way to deal with pain, but was grateful he'd been able to concentrate enough to ignore the real pain. From now on, it would be more difficult, simply because there was less to do. Suddenly he decided to pass out early.

On lash 427, he went completely limp and silent. Konti was startled, but managed to cover it by throwing a fit. As he stepped close, Kirk whispered, "Kick me off. Finish down there." So Konti did, complete with a barrage of verbal abuse. Kirk again managed to land face down, stirring slightly as Konti approached. Konti delivered three lashes to the legs, yelling at him to get up.

Kirk struggled to rise, and then collapsed again. But he managed to do it in such a way as to convey an unwillingness, rather than an inability to get up. Konti reacted the way he hoped Kirk wanted. He furiously applied twenty lashes as fast as he could manage. Kirk screamed, lunged to his feet, and began staggering around with a crazed, wild-eyed look on his face. He appeared to be looking for a way out, a place to run to, but without sufficient mental ability to actually run away.

Konti followed him around, continuing to apply the lash. As the minutes passed, Konti decided Kirk was gradually working his way towards the flitter, without seeming at all obvious about it. Then when about twenty feet away, he suddenly broke through the crowd and dashed for the flitter. Rather than open the door and climb in however, he simply plastered himself against the side of the flitter, pounding his fist against the hull.

Konti followed him and continued his physical and verbal barrage. Kirk slowly slid to the ground, his fingers clawing the metal all the way down. Then he crawled into the space between the flitter and the ground, trying to get away from the lash. But he left one foot within Konti's reach, so he dragged Kirk out from under the flitter.

The beating was finished with Kirk spread-eagled on the ground, digging his fingers and toes in, and sobbing. After the last lash, Konti opened the flitter door, threw in the whip, then picked up Kirk and threw him in, yelling at him to shut up.

As Konti closed the door, sat down and took the controls, he took a deep breath. They had survived the second 500 lashes. Kirk had fallen silent.

"Kirk, are you all right?"

"What a question! I'm still conscious, yes. Konti, we're not finished yet. When we get home, you will pull me out of the flitter, throw me toward the door, kick me, drag me, whatever. We don't know who might be watching your yard. Once we're inside with the door shut, if I really can't walk, you can carry me."

Konti followed orders, and Kirk got a few more scrapes and bruises, but nothing he considered serious. Once inside, Kirk slowly got to his feet and very carefully moved to the back room, where he collapsed in the center of the floor. He began to shake, and Konti dropped to his side, concerned.

"Kirk! You're not faking this? There's no one here but me. Kirk, stop it, please!"

"Calm down, Konti. I'm not faking. It would take more energy than I have to stop it, and it wouldn't change the outcome any. Tell Koh, he forgot to mention tingling lips."

"Kirk, you can't be dying! What can I do?"

"Nothing. Just sit and talk to me, Konti. This won't take long."

Kirk used that quiet voice of encouragement, and Konti gradually calmed down.

"I don't mind, I really don't. I expected it to be the knife, but this is okay. It doesn't really matter. What matters is that you believe that Jesus Christ loves you and wants to know you."

Believing that Kirk was dying, Konti said 'yes' to the Lord Jesus Christ, and was immediately flooded with that same incredible peace that Kirk had given him before.

"Hallelujah! Thank you, Jesus!" was Kirk's response.

His second concern was that Konti not blame himself for Kirk's death. So he talked again about forgiveness, and Konti promised to try not to blame himself. With Kirk's heart at peace, he turned to small talk to try to make Konti more comfortable.

"You know, it's really a good thing we don't have to do this tomorrow. I'm fresh out of ideas."

"That's what you said yesterday. But you certainly got creative in the middle of it."

Kirk chuckled. "Yes, well, I think better on my feet. Anyway, you followed my lead beautifully. Kezak undoubtedly thinks we rehearsed it."

"Didn't you?" said a voice behind them.

Konti whirled to face the intruder. It was Kezak.

"How much did you hear? And what are you doing, barging in here?"

"You didn't answer the door and it was unlocked. And I only heard the last sentence, but that was enough."

"I'm waiting for Koh. Kirk is dying." Konti's stance remained aggressive, even while he offered an explanation of the situation.

"Relax, Konti," Kirk murmured. "You were going to trust him anyway. Now that he has his proof, you have to either trust him or kill him."

Konti stared tensely at Kezak for a moment. Then he sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"So did you rehearse it?" Kezak's tone was purposely mild.

"No, we didn't even talk about it. But it doesn't matter anymore."

At this moment, Koh rushed in. "Sorry that took so long. I was detained. How is he?

"And what are you doing here?" This last to Kezak, who didn't reply.

"He's dying."

"What!? Why do you think so?"

"He thinks so. Shock symptoms."

"When? Is he still conscious?"

"Yes, I am. The reaction set in as soon as we got home. I'm surprised I've lasted this long."

"Describe your symptoms."

Koh was checking vitals as he listened to Kirk's succinct recitation.

"As long as you're conscious, there's a chance."

He gave Kirk two injections, sprayed his back with anesthetic, and expertly inserted an IV.

"Koh, you're wasting your time. Just let me die. If you don't, Konti will have to do it again tomorrow, and I'll probably die on the steps. Is that better?"

"No, it's not. Are you giving up then?"

"No. Just accepting the inevitable, and looking out for Konti's best interests."

"It's in Konti's best interests for you to survive. Haven't you got that figured out yet?! So stop talking about dying, and concentrate on living!"

Koh pulled out a heat blanket and wrapped Kirk up in it from head to toe.

"Now we wait. Might know in an hour; might be touch and go all night. Konti, go to bed. I'll call you if things go from bad to worse."

"But-" Konti protested.

"No buts, unless you want a sedative."

"Go ahead, Konti. I'll be okay."

So Konti went. Koh turned to Kezak.

"I don't know what you're doing here, but given what you've seen, you'll have to stay til Korn decides what to do with you. Since you're here, you might as well be useful. Sit down and talk to Kirk. Keep his mind occupied. Let me know immediately if he loses mental focus. I'm going to get us something to eat, and make sure Konti goes to bed."

Kirk and Kezak talked for four hours. At first, they talked about acting. Kirk was surprised to get understanding acceptance from Kezak, without any exclamations about how incredible he was. He had finally encountered someone for whom what he could do was no big deal. A refreshing change. Kirk found himself explaining the entire situation, including what was supposed to happen the next day. Kezak was neither appalled nor disbelieving, but offered several suggestions.

Koh checked in regularly, listening to the conversation long enough to assess Kirk's condition. After four hours, he decided it was safe to let Kirk sleep.

"Thank you, Kezak. Kirk, describe your symptoms now."

"The anesthetic wore off about an hour ago. No return of shock symptoms. I haven't been this warm in months. Very relaxing. Looks like I'm going to survive another day."

"Good. I'll clean your back in the morning. Get some sleep."

"You too. And Koh, thank you."

"You're welcome. See you in the morning."

Koh and Kezak bedded down in the main room.

"Will he really die tomorrow?"

"Who knows. Only his God, and He doesn't talk to me. But don't lose any sleep worrying about it. Kirk doesn't."

xxxx

Kirk was much better in the morning, handled the back cleaning on his feet, and seemed to Konti, more or less normal. Kezak had no idea what normal was, so he watched in fascination as Kirk interacted with both Koh and Konti as if they were not only equals, but close friends. Kirk served breakfast over Konti's protest, but then sat at table with them, perfectly at ease. After breakfast, they held a conference. Koh chaired the meeting.

"Now, we have to decide whether to go through with Day 3. Korn has given me authority to make that decision, which basically means, if Kirk dies, Korn can blame me. But before we address the question, let me give you a report on yesterday.

"It's the commonly held opinion that Konti is trying to kill Kirk, slowly and painfully. But more than that, to thoroughly humiliate him publicly first. Also, it's a unanimous conclusion that he's succeeding. Everybody thinks Kirk has completely lost control of himself."

Kirk nodded in satisfaction. Konti, however, was upset.

"That's part of what I can't stand about this - watching him fall apart, when I know he could just stand there and take it with no reaction at all. It's not fair!"

Kirk leaned forward earnestly. "Konti, it's not about what's fair. It's dangerous for that to be common knowledge, but we've talked about that. Maybe this will help: as long as I'm ranting and raving, I haven't fallen apart. If I really fall apart, it won't look like that."

"What will it look like?"

"I don't know. Koh hasn't gotten there yet. But consider this: when we first started yesterday, I wasn't sure I could last through 100 lashes. The pain was much more intense than I remembered from the first day. But once I got involved in the performance, ignoring the pain was relatively easy. If I can do that again, it won't hit me til afterwards. If I start getting uncontrollably quiet, then maybe I'm about to really lose it. But probably all I'll do is pass out."

"How am I supposed to know if you really passed out?!"

"Watch the fingers."

And Kirk illustrated what his hands would look like if he was faking it.

"Anything else to report about yesterday?" Koh asked.

Konti replied, "I'd like to know how Kezak knew it was faked. What did we do wrong?"

"Nothing really. I suspected it the first day, because it didn't make sense to me that Kirk would show you how terrified he was. Then I just watched carefully. If you ignore all the hoopla and just watch his feet, it's obvious he knows exactly what he's doing. But don't worry, nobody but a trained actor would see it."

Koh cleared his throat. "All right, I need a go, no-go vote from each of you. Do we finish this today? Kirk?"

"Yes. Do it today."

"Konti?"

"No. He almost died last night. He looks fine now, but I know how well he can hide it."

"Kezak?"

"Why do you want my opinion?"

"You crashed the party, but now that you're here, you stay with the ship. If we sink, you go down with us. Besides, you might have a fresh perspective."

"What happens if you don't do it today?"

"We put it off until Kirk can survive it. A few days, maybe even a week."

"I can see why Kirk wants to do it today. You lose momentum with a delay like that - very hard to recapture the emotional atmosphere. So the problem is how to do it in such a way that doesn't kill him. Kirk, let's have a look at you."

After a thorough inspection, there were several minutes of thoughtful silence.

"Konti, how good are you with that lash? Can you place it exactly where you want it?"

"Yes, within the inch."

"Okay, Koh, here's what I'm thinking. You tell me if you think this'll work. No more than twenty lashes here on the back. Spaced evenly, you can open all this up, so it looks like a bloody mess, without doing a whole lot more damage than we already have. All the rest of them go elsewhere. A few on the front, and there's a little room on the upper arms, but most of them on the buttocks and upper legs. Kirk, put your hands on your knees. See, that opens all this up. I would expect by the time you're done that all of this would look about like the back does now. Okay, thanks, Kirk, you can sit down. Well, Koh, what do you think?"

"Maybe, but the effects of injury are cumulative. You open up that back and it's going to be right back where it was last night."

"I don't think so," interrupted Kirk. "I didn't go into shock this morning when you cleaned it. Maybe because I wasn't exhausted."

"Which you will be tonight. The other thing I can't possibly quantify is your stubborn will. You decide you're going to die, there's no way I can stop you. On the other hand, as long as you want to live, there's no telling where the limit is to what you can take. By the way, what did you do last night before I got here, when you thought you were dying?"

"Talked to Konti."

"That's probably why you were still conscious. Konti, talk to him in the flitter all the way home. Keep his mind occupied."

"Does that mean you've decided to go ahead with this?" Konti asked.

"I'm strongly leaning in that direction. But I'd like it to be unanimous. Do you have other concerns besides Kirk's survival?"

"Well, a little less guess work would be nice."

Kezak offered, "I'd like to spend a couple of hours with the two of them going over the script. Several things Kirk and I talked about last night need Konti to do specific things. And that dive off the steps needs to be diagrammed. It's got to be right the first time. There is no second chance."

So Kezak coached Kirk and Konti for over two hours. Koh watched, and called to confer with Korn. At 1030 he convened another meeting.

"Well?"

Kezak smiled. "It's a pleasure to work with them both. I still vote do it today."

"We should have hired Kezak two months ago," was Kirk's opinion. "He's marvelous. Got the whole thing planned with no dead time. Definitely doable. The only question mark is afterwards. I had a thought: could you leave me some injections to take in the flitter on the way home?"

"Yes. I'll have to guess on the dosage, since it depends on the severity of symptoms. Konti, what's your vote?"

Konti took a long look at Kirk, then sighed.

"Kezak is as bad as Kirk in the way they plan the most awful things in such a matter-of-fact way. But Kirk's right; Kezak is a very good coach, and I can do this. It won't get any easier by putting it off, so if you think Kirk can survive it, I'll vote yes."

"There's absolutely no guarantee. All I can say is, it's not for certain that he can't survive it. Can you live with yourself if he doesn't?"

"I'll have to. It's not as if killing Kirk is a brand-new idea."

He looked at Kirk, who smiled warmly, but said nothing.

"All right, then, there's one other thing we need to settle. What are we going to do with Kezak?"

"What did Korn say?" Konti wanted to know.

"He said it was up to us, but we'd have to take care of the body ourselves. Interesting though, I got the distinct impression he thought Kirk's opinion should be the deciding factor."

Without a word, Kezak got up and came around the table to Kirk, who rose to meet him. He drew his knife and again offered it to Kirk.

"Will you take it now?" Kezak's voice was quiet.

Kirk gazed at Kezak for a long moment, then looked at Konti and Koh as well.

"You both think that if I trust him, he must be trustworthy? And if I don't trust him, you want me to kill him?"

Neither replied, but Kirk sensed acquiescence in the silence.

"Koh, do you trust him?" No reply.

"All right, my decision and mine alone. And if you die because I guessed wrong, at least I probably won't be around to regret it." He turned back to Kezak, his decision already made. "Put the knife away, Kezak. I'm not going to kill you. Welcome to the club. Your life expectancy may be short, but we try to have a good time."


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

The third beating went off exactly as Kezak had planned it. Even the dive was almost perfect. The second somersault had been a little ragged, but probably better that way - more realistic. Holding absolutely still for the last 50 lashes, feigning unconsciousness, had been easy. The only difficult part had been early on, when he'd first bent over. It was all he could do to avoid laughing, because it had been the position his mother had used to spank him. He'd managed to turn the laugh into a shudder, and hoped Konti hadn't noticed. As soon as they were in the flitter with the door closed, Konti started talking.

"Kirk, are you all right?"

"You asked me that yesterday. I'm fine, at least emotionally. Well, you finally got what you wanted - a total lack of reaction to the lash."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. By the way, what was so funny along about lash 112?"

"Sorry. I was hoping you hadn't noticed. Do you think anybody else knew I was laughing?"

"No, because it would never occur to them that you might be. Kezak probably knows, and Koh wasn't there."

So Kirk told him what was funny. As expected, Konti didn't think it was funny, but at least he had stopped being incredulous that Kirk could find such things funny. After a few more minutes debriefing the show, Konti changed the subject.

"I have a question. Why haven't you said anything about Jesus since last night?"

"Because we haven't been alone. The decision to share your commitment to Jesus Christ must be yours. The risks are considerable. Also you may feel that I forced your decision, because you made it believing that I was dying."

"You may die tonight instead. By the way, have you taken those injections?"

"No. The reaction hasn't set in yet. I told you I'm fine. No shock symptoms."

"Maybe you're so mentally confused, you don't know you're in shock."

"Do I sound confused?"

"No, but then what do I know? You can fake almost anything," Konti replied jokingly.

"But why would I?"

"No reason; maybe I'm the one that's confused. Anyway we're almost there. Uh-oh! Trouble. We've got company. Looks like a government-issue flitter. Might be Korn, but he wouldn't come here, unless he's got the inspectors breathing down his neck. If you're going to take those injections, you better do it now."

"I'm not taking them. I have more control without them. I'm unconscious, remember? And I'm staying that way til you give the all clear. Unless you have to wake me before they leave, in which case, douse me with a bucket of cold water. Now, off you go, and maybe it isn't who we think."

But it was. Konti was back in less than five minutes, hauling Kirk out of the flitter, muttering over the bloody mess on the floor. Throwing Kirk to the ground, he cleaned the flitter, explaining that it would stink if he didn't. Then he shouldered Kirk and carried him into the back room. Dumping him on the floor, he turned him onto his face with a foot, again muttering about the stinking mess. He excused himself to clean the blood off himself, but Kirk was sure the others were still watching him.

Konti was back in a few minutes and the inspectors began quizzing him, trying to crack his act, to make him break character. But Korn was strangely silent. Kirk prayed for Konti. Finally in desperation to be believed, Konti brought up the last 50 lashes, and his disgust that Kirk had been unconscious.

_They will make you pay for that_, thought Kirk, and prepared himself mentally. Sure enough, within minutes, they had Konti backed into a corner, having to pretend to relish the idea of waking Kirk and delivering another 50 lashes.

_They know_, Konti screamed at himself, as he was fetching the water. _Doesn't matter what they know, _Kirk would say._ It's what they can prove. Don't break character! Okay, but I'm sorry. Don't be, _Kirk would say._ Even if this encore kills me, it's okay. Jesus loves you._

When the cold water hit his head, Kirk sputtered, gasped, shook his head, groaned, and began to shake all over. Suddenly icy cold, he shivered uncontrollably. The shock was setting in. Well, he would use it for effect, and maybe Konti would think it was faked. There was another wait of several minutes, while Konti fetched the whip from the flitter. Kirk tried unsuccessfully to move himself out of the puddle of cold water. He undoubtedly could have done so, but better for them to think he could not.

Konti returned and started in with the lash. After ten methodically delivered strokes, he could feel Kirk saying, _this is boring. Do something different._ Kezak would say, _it's not going anywhere. There's no momentum._ So Konti began to vary the rhythm and location. Kirk's reactions and general body tension made it seem apparent that Konti was driving him crazy.

Kirk expertly built the tension til the whole room was charged with it. Suddenly on lash 42, he let loose a sustained, ear-splitting scream, and flailed about uncontrollably with arms and legs. Konti delivered the last eight lashes as fast as he could, and Kirk summoned reserves to increase his reaction. Throwing the whip in the corner, Konti waited until the scream subsided into a sob.

"Well, Kirk, you won't forget that for awhile!"

_Neither will I_, thought Konti, as he strode into the main room. He poured himself a drink and sat down, willing his hands to stop shaking. _This isn't over yet_, he told himself firmly. The others straggled out, poured themselves drinks, and stood around for ten minutes of small talk before Konti could suggest they leave. Kirk's sobs grew quieter, but Konti knew he was still in character. Which was just as well, because the inspectors each stepped in for another look before they departed. Korn gave him a look of mixed admiration, sympathy, and regret, but said nothing. Konti locked the door and hurried to Kirk.

"They've gone, and I locked the door. I brought the hypos from the flitter."

"You do it. My hands are too shaky. Maximum dose on both of them. Thanks. Can you get some towels?"

By the time Konti returned with towels, Kirk had managed to inch himself out of the worst of the puddle of water.

"Leave the puddle. Just dry me off. If they come back, I'll have to get back in it."

"No!"

"Yes. Now don't argue, just do what I say. And Konti, if I'm unconscious when the door buzzer rings, get rid of all the evidence and put me back in the puddle before you answer the door."

Konti did his best to dry Kirk, but without drying the floor too, it wasn't very successful. Kirk let him wrap his feet in a dry towel, but for the rest, Kirk lay on the cold, damp floor and shivered. And tried to think about something else.

"Too bad Kezak wasn't here for the encore. You were great!"

"You, my friend, were the star of the show. Where'd you learn to scream like that? I wouldn't have thought you had enough energy left to pull off that kind of a finale."

"I didn't know that I did. But that's what seemed to fit the situation. With this size room, we needed something with more finesse than a lot of what we did out there. But Konti, what you did for me made it a lot easier. So thanks very much."

"You're welcome. I could feel you telling me how boring it was going to be if I didn't do something interesting."

Kirk chuckled. "You know me well. Konti, I like working with you. If Kezak has his way, we could be quite a team. If I survive the night, that is."

"Do you think you will?"

"Doesn't look real good at the moment, but after last night, I'm not making any assumptions. However, the will to live is still going strong, for whatever that's worth."

"Kirk, there's one thing about this that's bothering me. I got the distinct impression those inspectors _knew_ we were faking. But if so, then somebody talked. Do you think it was Kezak?" he asked grimly.

"I doubt it, just because there wasn't much time. He was in the crowd when we got there. But I agree, they acted as if somebody tipped them off, but they needed proof. Thank you for not giving it to them. And who knows, maybe it was Kadat."

At this moment, the door buzzer sounded.

"Quick! Put the towels in a drawer; get rid of those hypo cartridges; and turn out the light!"

Konti heard Kirk gasp as he lowered himself onto the cold water. He hesitated and turned back to Kirk.

"Get going! I'll be in character by the time you get back."

So Konti went. And was back a few minutes later.

"Kirk, it's Kezak."

Kirk again struggled to get free of the water, and could not.

"Sorry, guys. I'm not faking. This time I really can't."

So they lifted him free of the puddle and dried him off, more successfully this time. Konti explained while they worked. But Kirk continued to shake convulsively even after he was dry.

"Too bad we don't have any more hypos. That cold water is getting to me. Starting to feel feverish too. If Koh doesn't get here soon, I may be history."

"What can we do?"

"Not much. Need medicines we haven't got. And that heat blanket, which we don't have either. But you can keep talking. At least until I start getting delirious."

"Kezak, you talk to him. I'm going to get some bedding."

Konti pulled the fur and blankets off his own bed and brought them to the back room. They laid him on the fur, placed clean towels over the wounds, and piled blankets on top. Kirk was aware enough to realize Konti had given up his own bedding, but hadn't the energy for more than a mild protest.

They talked for three hours with no sign of Koh. At first Kirk was an active participant in the conversation. Then he would contribute a word or short phrase, which showed he was still following mentally. Then his input became erratic, disjointed, and unrelated to the conversation. Shortly thereafter, it degenerated into obviously delirious muttering, some of it even in Standard. This startled Konti, because he had forgotten that Klingon was not Kirk's native tongue.

Shortly before 2200, the door buzzer sounded. Konti went to answer it; Kezak stayed with Kirk. They had agreed without telling him, not to put him back in the water.

"Who is it?"

"Koh. Let me in, Konti."

"Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"I am wearing a special mark. What is it, where is it, and who put it there?"

"It's a cross on your belly, and Kirk put it there."

Konti let him in.

"Sorry, but we're having to be extra careful."

"Is he alive?"

"Yes, so far. Come on back. Kezak is with him."

"Kezak! Somebody talked, and it had to be him. You got any rope around here?"

"Yes, but- Kirk doesn't think it was him."

"I know it wasn't me, you, or Kirk. That leaves Kezak. Get the rope."

Koh strode into the back room, followed by Konti, who removed a length of rope from a drawer. While Koh checked Kirk's vitals, Konti jumped Kezak from behind, disarmed him, and tied him hand and foot. Beyond an initial yelp of surprise, Kezak neither resisted nor protested. Koh turned to face him.

"Somebody talked. You better hope he survives the night, because if he doesn't, you won't either."

"What are his chances?"

"As long as he's breathing, there's a chance. Konti, tell me in sequence everything that happened to him."

Konti's concise summary left out nothing. Koh was giving injections and inserting IV's as he listened. Then he and Konti maneuvered Kirk into the heat blanket. Kirk seemed unaware of any of it.

"Kirk, can you hear me?"

"Koh, it won't work; I'm not afraid of any of it."

"I know you're not, but please describe your symptoms anyway."

"Symptoms? Haven't got any. I feel fine."

"No pain?"

"Oh, that. Rather not think about it, but if you insist. The intensity seems more or less normal, but there's something different about it. Have you changed the program?"

"Yes, but don't worry about it. Just let me know if the intensity gets a lot worse. I'll be back in a few hours."

Giving orders to Kezak to keep Kirk talking, Koh insisted Konti eat something. Over a quick meal, he told Konti that the inspectors had grilled him for almost four hours, trying to get him to admit the existence of a conspiracy.

"They'll never believe that Kirk has no military agenda. Furthermore, they don't believe that I haven't managed to uncover some sign of it."

"Do you think he does? That he's making fools of us?"

"I've asked myself that question almost every day since he got here. If he does, he has it well-hidden. The only thing that makes any kind of sense is a long-term plan. But he doesn't expect to live that long, and he doesn't care. The man doesn't know what the word anxiety means."

They returned to the back room and sat against the wall, prepared to wait out the long night hours. Kezak was quietly telling a story. Konti listened only to Kirk, whose occasional interruptions showed he was still mostly delirious. Some of it was Klingon, much of it Standard. Some was muttering, some clearly understandable. Some was memorized Scripture, some one-liners were part of a longer thought.

"Sam, do you think Dad is ever afraid?"

"Thank you, Spock."

"Remember 280."

"I'm not afraid of the dark, Sam. Did you think I was?"

"Who are you, Spock? Why do I keep coming back to this unanswerable question?"

"Dying's not so difficult. It's just letting go."

"You can do this, Konti. I want you to."

"Don't be afraid for me, Mom. I have to go. The stars are calling me."

"You warned me, Spock, but it is bearable, just. And it shouldn't be too much longer now."

"Koh, I don't care how high or how long; I'm not pressing this button!"

Koh checked Kirk's vitals, replenished the IV, and gave him more injections.

"I wish I could turn off his pain by pressing a button. The next four hours are critical, and I can't give him anything more than I just did. I hope that stubborn will of his is working overtime, 'cause he's going to need it."

"Koh, that's what he said to me today in the flitter. 'I want you to.' How can he? And after that encore in here, he thanked me for driving him crazy. You should have heard the scream. And now, he's lying there dying. He's not afraid of it; he's not fighting it; and he doesn't blame anybody for it, least of all me, who has done it to him."

"Konti, he's not dead yet. Don't start grieving now."

But Konti was steeped in despair. He knew Kirk was dying; so did Koh; so did Kirk himself. Konti thought back to the conversation of the previous evening. Kirk's biggest concerns were that Konti not blame himself and that he accept the reality of Kirk's God.

How could he not blame himself? What had Kirk said about forgiveness? Of this he was absolutely certain: that Kirk did not hold this against him. But could he forgive himself, just because Kirk forgave him? And what about the reality of his God? Had his commitment last night been real, or just an act of desperation? The peace had certainly felt real, as real as what Kirk had given him last week. But he did not feel peaceful now.

Konti's soul searching continued for over two hours. Kezak had fallen silent. Koh paced the far end of the room, muttering variations on 'Don't die on me, Kirk.' Increasingly erratic breathing marked Kirk's deteriorating condition. Kirk hadn't said a word for hours, and was probably unconscious. Konti was so internally focused, he hardly noticed.

Suddenly Konti remembered something Kirk had said that first day here. That when he died, it would be God's decision, even if Konti thought he was doing it. Agitated, he stood up and started towards Kirk. Koh was at Kirk's side. He stood and faced Konti.

"I'm sorry, Konti. I truly am."

"No! Jesus, God of Kirk, hear me! He said You sent him to us, and that You would choose the time of his death. I believe him. You can take him now, or You can choose to give him back to us. I know we don't deserve to have him back. Our treatment of him has been terrible, and it will not get any better. But he does not hold it against us. I believe he would choose to come back, knowing the continued agony that awaits him. So I am asking You, because he is my friend, please give him back."

Koh stared at Konti in amazement. It sounded as if Konti really believed that Kirk's God could restore his life. His uncertainty was not over whether He could, but whether He would. The next moment Koh was startled to hear Kirk's audible intake of air. He whirled around, and turned the scanner on Kirk.

Minutes ago the machine had verified that Kirk was dead. Now it showed that Kirk was alive, very. Koh rechecked it three times, even looked at the wounds, which were still there. It was unaccountable. Kirk had definitely been dead. He had not imagined it, and the scanner's recorder confirmed it. Now he was not only alive, but no where near the brink of death. Koh sat shaking his head.

Konti breathed a quiet, "Thank you, Jesus!"

A few hours of sleep were had by all.

xxxx

Spock was playing chess with Young. Suddenly he became very still.

"Spock? What's wrong?"

"Jim," was Spock's whispered response. Looking like death warmed over, he rose. "If you will excuse me, Captain?"

"Certainly, Spock. We'll play another time."

Spock blindly made his way to his quarters. He had just felt Jim die. It had taken him completely by surprise, because nothing traumatic had preceded it. Some sense of emotional disturbance a few days earlier, but nothing really awful.

Yet by the time he reached his quarters, as suddenly as before, the emptiness disappeared. Jim was back. Very odd. As he sat on his bunk pondering it, his only conclusion was that someone had just raised Jim from the dead. He praised the Lord for several hours, and prayed for Jim Kirk.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Konti was the first to awaken. Verifying that Kirk was still alive, he went to his bedroom to talk to Kirk's God.

_Lord Jesus, Kirk's God and mine, I owe you for last night. I can't possibly pay you the debt I owe. I can't pay Kirk either. But if You're anything like he is, You don't want payment. You just want me to know You. I don't expect I'll ever know You like he does, but I want to. And I'll do whatever You tell me to, regardless of the cost. So do You have any instructions for me?_

It wasn't quite an audible voice that replied. _Translate My Word into Klingon._

_I'm not sure I understand, Lord._

_ Kirk will help you._

Determined to ask Kirk about this at the earliest opportunity, Konti returned to the back room.

"Good morning, Koh. How is Kirk?"

"I'm fine, Konti. Sorry I took your bed."

"Not a problem, and your definition of fine is open to interpretation. So Koh, how is he, really?"

"How should I know? It appears that he's alive and kicking. After last night, I'm not sure whether to believe appearances."

Kirk laughed. "If you'll help me out of this cocoon, I'll try and stand up. That should prove I'm alive."

Koh was aghast. "You died last night. And now you want to stand up as if nothing's wrong? Your backside is still a bloody mess. I checked."

"I know. I can feel it, which is more than can be said for part of last night."

"Didn't you hear me?! I said you _died_ last night."

"I heard you, and I knew that before you told me. After all, I was here. I saw you stand up and tell Konti how sorry you were. God knew I wasn't going anywhere, so I never left this room. I heard everything Konti said too. Thank you very much, Konti."

"What for? I didn't do anything." Konti was clearly puzzled.

"You declared your belief aloud. All of heaven heard you."

"But God is the one who did it! By the way, did He ask you?"

"He knew the answer without asking. But we shared a laugh over the fact that you knew what I would choose. So, Koh, are you going to let me get up?"

"I suppose there's not much harm in letting you try."

So they unwrapped Kirk, leaving the towels and one blanket, that were stuck to his skin. Konti would have helped Kirk up, but he refused assistance.

"If I can't do this without help, then Koh is right, I should stay here."

Kirk slowly and carefully got to his feet. At that point, he noticed Kezak.

"Good morning, Kezak. I thought you were here last night, but much of the night is kind of muddled. Hey, what's with the rope? How come you're tied?"

"Somebody talked. They think it was me. If you died, they were going to kill me."

"No! Konti, Koh, you mustn't! Revenge killing doesn't solve anything. It only feeds the bitterness. Promise me that when I die, you will kill no one, no matter whose fault you think it is. And Konti, that includes killing yourself."

When neither of them replied, he took a step towards them, almost fell, but recovered himself. Fixing them with his intense gaze, he repeated his demand.

"I mean it. No killing! Give me your word. Konti?"

"I promise, Kirk."

"Koh?"

"All right. No killing. My word on it."

"Thank you both." Kirk relaxed. "That being the case, why don't you untie Kezak. I don't think he's the one that talked anyway."

"Sorry. Not till after I discuss it with Korn."

Kirk turned to Kezak with a shrug. "I tried."

"Thanks, Kirk. I appreciate your efforts."

Kirk made it to the bathroom, falling twice, and crawling the last few feet. In typical stubborn-will fashion, he refused to give up or accept help. It took almost two hours before Koh pronounced his work finished, by which time, Kirk was exhausted. A trip to the back room loomed as nigh onto insurmountable. But Kirk insisted on trying. He managed twenty feet, before he passed out. Konti carried him back to bed.

Koh called Korn, who managed to convey that such communication methods were no longer secure. He wanted Konti in his office within the hour. So Konti went. By the time he returned two hours later, Kirk was again conscious and begging to get out of bed. This time he made it to and from the bathroom without falling, but he refused Konti's bedding, and would have lain on the cold floor instead.

"Kirk, don't argue with me. You will use Konti's bed. You're never this uncooperative in my lab. Why are you being so unreasonable?"

"Because we are in Konti's home, not your lab. I am his slave. A slave does not use his master's bed, even a half-dead slave."

"You're not half-dead! But I'm still concerned about shock. You must not lie on the cold floor."

"Then I will stand."

Koh snorted. "Until you fall over. Then I will put you back in Konti's bed, and you will stay there."

"Will you two stop arguing? Do you want to know what Korn said?"

"Yes." "Sorry, Konti."

"First of all, Korn is the one who talked, not Kezak, so we can untie him."

He moved to do so, and Koh helped. Silence reigned until the job was done and all were on their feet.

"Thank you, gentlemen. That's much better."

An awkward silence, which Konti tried to bridge.

"I'm sorry for doubting you, Kezak."

"Quite understandable under the circumstances, but you, Kirk, never doubted. Why not?"

Kirk grinned. "Maybe I was just stubbornly defending my earlier decision. But may I give you all a piece of advice?" They were all ears. "Trust is a fragile thing. Once distrust has been introduced, it will raise its ugly head again at every opportunity. If you want Kezak to be part of this team, and I do, you will have to work very hard at it. Decide to trust him even when you don't feel like it, when you have no way of knowing if he is trustworthy. Trust is risky. Continue to take the risk.

"And you, Kezak, must be not only completely trustworthy, but continually forgiving. It's more than just understanding the reason for the lack of trust. It's keeping yourself open, continuing to give of your time and talent, acting out the decision not to hold the distrust against them, no matter how many repetitions you suffer."

"It is a hard thing you ask, this forgiving, but I will try. Konti, Koh, I forgive you for not trusting me. Can we go on together?"

Konti looked at Koh.

"This trust business is all well and good, but what if he can't be trusted?"

"We make the decision to take the risk, because we want him on the team. Kirk does, and I do, but it's got to be unanimous, Koh."

Koh looked at each of them in turn.

"All right. I will try. Kezak, I choose to trust you."

"Thank you, Koh. That means a lot. Now I, for one, would like to know what else Korn said, and where do we go from here?"

Konti continued his report. "As I said, Korn was the one who talked. All he would tell me is that they goaded him into defending his son's honor." He turned to Kezak. "That would be my honor."

Kezak was briefly startled, not so much at the revelation but at Konti's casual manner of revealing it. "Interesting," was all he said.

Konti ignored the response and went on. "So apparently whatever he said was only enough to make them suspicious. Since we did not provide them the truth they sought, they are forced to accept the show as truth. Needless to say, they will continue to watch. I talked to him about Kezak. To my surprise, he's not necessarily opposed to Kezak's scheme. Says to keep him informed. Last but certainly not least: I have an update on the mindsifter. It'll be at least another month. Apparently they're having problems with it."

Koh snorted. "May they continue to have problems. What about the lab sessions?"

"To be resumed as soon as medically feasible. He'll try to warn you when to expect visitors, but he can't guarantee anything."

"Kirk and I will work out some kind of warning signal. Should prove an interesting mental challenge. And I think a full week of rest is in order."

"A week! Koh, I'll be climbing the walls! How about three days?"

"I'm sure that would be interesting to see, but I'm equally sure you won't be. Here's the program: for the next week, you get all the food and drink you want, no IV's, no new sources of pain, regular doses of local anesthetic, and last but not least, a warm, soft bed, in which you will spend at least twelve out of every twenty-four hours. In short, I want your pampered body soft and lazy by the time you come back to my lab. Will you do this for me?"

"Just one question: what do we do with the bed if visitors show up here?"

"There's a bin in the back corner that's big enough, I think. I'll just have to reorganize a few things."

"Konti! Whose side are you on?" Konti was startled, but one look told him Kirk was amused, not angry.

"Okay, Koh, you win. Sometimes I think you know me too well."

"Let's hope the inspectors don't ruin it by showing up the first day back."

They both chuckled. Koh shooed the others out and put Kirk to bed, with an admonition to take a nap.

"And if I find out you're not behaving, there's always sedatives."

Kirk laughed. "A fate worse than death."

xxxx

When Kirk awoke, the others had gone. Konti served him some soup and juice, and dosed his back with more anesthetic. Then they talked for a while. Konti shared his questions about the Lord's instruction for him that morning. Kirk told him what the Word was, and what kind of a task the translation would be. The first job was to obtain a copy of the Book in Standard. Konti would try one or two contacts he knew that might be able to get him such a thing. Meanwhile, Kirk suggested he get a copy of the tape Koh had from the week in the sensory deprivation unit.

The week passed uneventfully. No unexpected visitors, though they practiced the drill every time Koh or Kezak showed up. Kirk's condition improved rapidly. He did indeed pamper himself. As far as Konti could tell, he enjoyed every minute of it. But he also thought the whole thing was a big joke. And it was the sixth day before Kirk could sit, or lie on his back. Which he also seemed to find highly amusing.

On the night of the seventh day, Kirk went to the lab. He enjoyed being outside, in spite of the shock to his system. Shivering with cold, he lingered in his favorite spot in the park. Was it fair, what he was about to do to Koh? Probably not. Would Koh be furious? Yes. Was he going to do it anyway? Yes. Why? To prove he trusted Koh. And did he trust him? Absolutely! Besides, it was going to be hysterically funny.

He mounted the steps to the lab even more reluctantly than usual, just in case anybody was watching. He walked into the lab with every ounce of body language showing his dread of this. Hands visibly shaking, it took him fully fifteen minutes to don the wires. As soon as he had the first one in place, Koh sent him the 'all clear' signal. The shaking and fumbling continued.

"Kirk, is there something wrong with the connection? I sent you the 'all clear'."

"Connection's working just fine. I got the message, loud and clear."

"Then cut out the act. There's nobody here but us. I want your real response."

"I believe you, Koh. Why do you think this is an act?"

"Don't kid me, Kirk. I've seen you perform often enough. So cut it out."

"Koh, I'm telling you, it was almost more than I could manage to climb those steps tonight."

"Don't give me that nonsense." He paused, clearly assuming Kirk would change his behavior. "Kirk, I'm getting annoyed. What are you trying to pull?"

Kirk's laugh was a harsh, nervous cackle. "I've cried wolf too many times. You don't believe me. You want to come in here and check my vitals? Then maybe you'll believe me."

Koh sighed with exasperation. "Nothing's going to break you. I know it, and you know it. So what's _wrong _with you?"

"1500 lashes plus a week off is what's wrong with me."

"Kirk, it never occurred to me that a week off would undermine your ability to take this. It was just an excuse to make you let that back heal, and you know it. So stop messing around, or you're going to be sorry."

"I'm already sorry I walked in here. Koh, I don't think I can do this any more."

Kirk had finished putting the wires on, but had not tested any of them. He stood facing the monitoring window, the picture of despair and dread. Koh remembered the first time Kirk had stood before him waiting to get blasted with pain. Then he had been calmly confident, and Koh had fiercely wanted to break him. Did he still want to? No, but it was his job. And he still wasn't sure whether Kirk was seriously afraid of it.

"Kirk, if you are faking, you're going to be _very_ sorry."

"Koh, believe me, I wish I were."

The only way to find out if he was faking was to break him if he could.

"All right, Kirk. You asked for it."

Koh set the dial on 200 and turned on the power. Kirk gasped and visibly struggled to retain his feet. Koh turned on the automatic accelerator, set at a pace slightly faster than Kirk found easy. With the automatic cutoff at 450, Koh turned his attention to watching Kirk.

Standing with his fists clenched, his face twisted in agony, Kirk pleaded with Koh.

"I can't do this, Koh, I really can't. You don't want to see this any more than I do. Please, Koh, turn it off. Can we just talk about this? I can't stand it, Koh! I'm losing it - TURN- IT- OFF!"

This last degenerated into a howl of agony. Kirk dropped to his knees and began clawing his chest in an ineffective attempt to rid himself of the wires. When this proved unfruitful, he simply hugged himself, rolled back and forth, and sobbed. With the dial somewhere over 350, he began with shaky hands to rip off the pads on his palms. Before he finished removing the second one, he went completely limp.

Koh checked the dial, which read 378, and turned off the power. That last move had convinced him that Kirk was not faking it. He had never taken off the leads before, and Koh knew why. Kirk would not risk that just for a joke. And if he was passing out at 378, then he wasn't fully recovered from the 1500 lashes. He berated himself on the way to Room A: o_f course, he's not recovered. What kind of a doctor are you anyway?_

Muttering to himself as he entered Room A, Koh pulled out his scanner. Just as he registered that the machine showed Kirk was conscious, he realized Kirk was shaking. He looked up in astonishment to see Kirk roll onto his back and burst into uproarious laughter. So it _had_ been a joke, and he'd been fooled. There was no denying it. He wasn't sure whether to be absolutely furious, or overwhelmingly relieved. In fact, he was both. Kirk grinned at him.

"Go ahead. Let loose your fury. I deserve it; guilty as charged; no excuse. Get it out of your system, and then we can talk." Kirk sat up.

"Kirk," Konti paused, uncertain how to continue.

Kirk stood up and faced him encouragingly.

"I'm the one who doesn't want to do this any more."

"I know, but you have to. Right now, you need to reestablish what's normal. My fault. So go back in there, crank up the dial to 400, and hit the power switch. Don't argue, just do it."


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Koh allowed Kirk to push him out the door. Once more, Koh looked through the window at Kirk, who was again waiting for maximum pain. The difference in his attitude was like night and day. Koh realized that the only reason he'd been able to keep this up for months was that Kirk displayed this attitude, whereas Konti had to put up with the opposite. Koh's esteem for Konti rose several notches, as well as his understanding of the problem.

"Koh, I want you to."

Koh twisted the dial to 400 and pressed the power switch. Kirk had it under control almost immediately, and with virtually no visible effort.

"Thank you, Koh. I mean it. Now I'd like you to leave it there for as long as it takes you to regain the confidence you had before I tricked you. But I would like to talk with you. So if whatever you have planned for the rest of the night can wait, please come and talk to me."

Koh stared at him for a long moment, surprised at how shocked he was to see no sign of pain. He turned off the pain generator, directed Kirk to Room C, and joined him there. Gesturing Kirk to a chair, Koh poured a tall glass of juice for each of them.

"Do you really mean for me to drink this, or is it just here for looks?" He smiled.

"What? Oh, yes, drink it, yes." Koh was obviously distracted.

"Koh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you come unglued. Can you talk to me?"

"What _did_ you mean to do?"

"At first I was out to get even with you for winning the battle of the bedding. Enforced idleness breeds mischief, as it were. As the week went on, I wondered if anybody had ever teased you. You seem so in-control and untouchable all the time. And then I thought it would be quite a triumph if I could actually fool you. For several days, I wondered if I dared. Then yesterday, I realized that daring to tease you meant I trusted you. And I do.

"I expected you to be furious. And you were; I saw it in your eyes. Weathering the storm of your anger would have been easy."

"How so?"

"I would have kept laughing, which would have made you more angry. You would have unleashed your fury, and I would have kept on laughing until your anger was spent, and you could see that I was not mocking you, but encouraging you to have fun with me. That it doesn't matter whether we're laughing at me or you. That it can be just as much fun to be the victim.

"Do you remember the first time we talked about teasing? You were aghast that I _wanted_ you to tease me. But it changed the atmosphere in here from deadly serious to joking and laughing. How often since then have you done something 'just for fun'?

"This was the first 'just for fun' thing at your expense, and it backfired. I think that's because I did not have your permission to tease. I promise you, Koh, that I will never, ever, tease you again. Can you forgive me for what I did to you?"

"No! I mean yes! I - I don't want you to promise not to tease. Now that you've explained it, I feel honored that you would trust me enough to try this. I hope you will try it again sometime. I'm not upset with you for teasing me." He twisted the juice glass in his hands. "Well, that's not entirely true: I was angry; I was furious; and if I hadn't been so troubled, I probably would have really let you have it, even knowing you would laugh at me."

"Can you tell me what troubles you?"

"It's an image, really three pictures, all basically the same, yet each vastly different. The image is you standing there, as seen from the monitoring room, waiting for me to blast you with maximum pain. The first time I saw that image was on board ship, the day you dared me to throw everything I had at you. You were calmly confident that you could handle anything. That was the day that breaking you became a personal goal. I was furious, and I wanted to smash your confidence.

"Today you showed me an image of terror and despair, positively begging me not to break you. For the first time, I realized that I no longer wanted to. That I actively did _not_ want you to fall apart. But I did it to you anyway, part of me clinging to the belief that you must be faking, part of me believing the reality of what I was seeing. And I did finally believe it when you pulled the leads off your hands. So when I discovered that it was a fake after all, I was vastly relieved, as well as being furious with you.

"The last image was while you waited for that blast of 400 you just asked for. Gone was the terror; even confidence was missing, because you didn't know if I would do it. Your ability to handle it wasn't even up for consideration. It was taken for granted. Your concern was for me.

"Now that I no longer want to break you, how can I continue to do the things I have done to you?"

"With the same single-minded focus and cheerful disregard of the cost to me that you have had before."

"Kirk! I can't disregard it any more!"

"Yes, you can. You just need to readjust your thinking. Look, we both know I'm not going to fall apart. You do know that?"

"Yes, well, I did until tonight."

"So you turned off the 400, not because you were confident I could take it, but because you couldn't stand to leave it on?"

"I couldn't stand to sit here talking to you, knowing you were in that kind of pain. Even if I couldn't see it, I would know I was causing it."

"Hmm, I see we have work to do. But let's fix your thinking first. There are two, possibly three, reasons we are here in this lab spending time together. The first is to provide reports to Korn that assure him you are doing your job. The second is to provide insurance for you against accusations of treason. The third is to provide something believable for the inspectors to see when they come to visit.

"Would you agree that we cannot simply create fictional reports for Korn, ignore the treason accusations, and set up some display of torture that we will jump into when the doorbell rings? That way we could spend the bulk of our time either sleeping or playing chess."

"I agree it would be very risky to fabricate reports to Korn. Sometimes he asks to see the video footage. I don't know about the treason threat. And the visitors? You probably could jump from a sound sleep into a believable performance, but I don't know if I could."

"All right, then. This has got to be real. Is the reason you don't want to do this because you don't want to watch me fall apart?" Kirk kept his tone serious because Koh was obviously in no place to joke about the situation.

"That's a big part of it. How can I push for something I don't want to happen?"

"Was it really that awful to watch? Think back on what you actually saw. Was it truly terrible?"

"No, I guess it's as much the idea of it as anything outwardly visible. The idea that there's something you really can't stand, some limit to that stubborn will of yours."

"Koh, I'm not afraid of it. I'm mildly curious. I don't think you can find a way to break me. But even if I'm wrong, it doesn't matter. Nothing very world-shattering will happen. So I display some disgracefully cowardly behavior. That's nothing new. And even if you and I both know that for once, it's real, so what?

"My sense of self-worth will not disintegrate, because it's not based on an ability to avoid falling apart. I would regret it if my worth in your eyes disappeared, because I value a continued relationship with you. Your superiors think that when I fall apart, I will spill all those Federation secrets I've been hiding. I know that's not going to happen, because I haven't got anything to tell. When I was delirious last week, did I say anything about Starfleet?"

"You talked about Sam, your parents, Konti, me, and Spock. Who is Spock?"

"Good question. Actually, he's probably Starfleet. Because if he weren't, he would have left more information about his identity. He would know that the not knowing is driving me nuts."

"Is it really? You never talk about it."

"Oh, it's not unbearable, quite. And he told me it would be bad. But it's worth every minute, not to have to fear the mindsifter. So don't worry about it. It was my decision, and I don't regret the consequences."

"Kirk, I could tell you who Spock is."

"So you recognize the name."

"He is as well-known throughout the galaxy as you are."

"Which doesn't tell me anything. No, much as I'd like to know, it's better if you don't tell me. If the mindsifter tells them that I know who Spock is, they'll think they're making progress. So leave me in ignorance. Which brings me back to the original question. Do you believe that I don't care if you break me?"

"I heard what you said. It's pretty hard to believe. But I'll agree that it's consistent with the rest of your actions and attitudes."

"All right, we need to talk through our plans for visitors. But first, I want you to go turn on the pain generator."

Koh shook his head.

"Yes. If you won't do it, then I will. And I won't tell you how high I set it. What's the max you think you could stand to watch?"

"50."

"Koh! That's ridiculous! Make it 150 or I do it myself."

Kirk was smiling encouragement, but Koh recognized the steely determination in his eyes. So Koh did it.

They discussed strategy for fooling the visitors for about two hours, during which Kirk completely ignored the pain. When Koh started laughing at his jokes, Kirk knew Koh had forgotten about the pain generator. When they had their strategy in place and communication codes memorized, Kirk returned to the bigger issue.

"Koh, one of the reasons I like you is because you can look me in the eye and say, 'I'm going to push you and stretch you and keep doing it until you break.' Yet there's no animosity in your heart, so when I say, 'Okay, how can I help?', you just laugh and let me help you. So what can I do to help you now?"

"I don't know, Kirk." Koh was the picture of depression.

"Koh, have you ever had these wires on yourself? Do you know what this feels like, and if not, would it be better or worse if you did?"

"I've had one on at a time, to test them." He chuckled. "You should have seen the day I was testing the footpads. Good thing nobody but me was there. Anyway, no, I've never had the whole thing on at once. I'm sure the cumulative effects are a lot worse. I planned it that way."

"They are. You planned well." Kirk grinned at him.

"And you think it's funny!" Koh just shook his head at Kirk.

"So, do you want to know what it feels like?" There was more than a hint of challenge in his eyes.

Without a word, Koh rose and went to the monitoring room. Kirk followed, leaning casually in the open doorway. Koh rummaged for the set of wires he had used on Konti, along with the spare control box. It was a few minutes' work to set it all up. Then he eyed Kirk with irritation.

"Come in and shut the door. It's cold out there."

Kirk complied, laughing openly. Kirk knew that Koh deliberately kept the temperature in the corridor ten degrees colder for the sole purpose of making Kirk uncomfortable. Suddenly Koh looked up in astonishment.

"You're doing it again. You're laughing at me."

There was a hint of wonder in his voice. Kirk nodded, and continued to laugh. As Koh disrobed, his face wore a distinctly puzzled look. With his clothes in a pile at his feet, he confronted Kirk.

"Is the sole purpose of this exercise for you to stand there and laugh at me, or is there something else going on?"

Kirk sobered at once. "There's definitely another purpose. I'd prefer not to discuss it until I see it happening, if it does."

Koh busied himself with the wires and Kirk offered to help. Together they had it done in a few minutes. The testing took a few more minutes. Then Kirk stepped back to watch what Koh would do. Koh stared at the controls for a long moment. He took a deep breath, then turned to Kirk.

"I'm strongly tempted to jack it up to 400 and turn on the power, but reason tells me that's stupid. You passed out at 125 that first day, and you were still at 200 two weeks ago. Do you suppose I could manage zero to 100 without passing out?"

"I don't know." Kirk kept his tone carefully neutral.

Koh set the dial to 100 and hit the power switch. He gasped and clutched the edge of the counter, convulsively lifting his feet as if the floor were too hot. After several minutes, he managed to let go of the counter long enough to turn off the power. Leaning against the counter, he took several deep breaths.

"Well, that was interesting. I wonder if..."

Koh set the dial at minimum and turned on the power. Then he slowly increased it all the way up to 100. His reaction was nowhere near as severe. Then he turned off the power, waited perhaps thirty seconds, then turned it back on - zero to 100. Almost no reaction. Then he began increasing again.

Kirk watched him experiment for almost half an hour, during which he increased his tolerance to 150 by dint of persistent, hard work. Kirk shifted his feet and Koh looked up in surprise.

"You better quit now. It wouldn't do for visitors to see you dressed like that."

"I suppose not. Unfortunately."

Koh stripped off the wires, put them away, and got dressed. Before they left the room, however, Kirk reached over and raised his own dial to 200. Koh observed the action, but made no objection. Neither said anything until they were again seated at the table in Room C.

"Well?" Koh demanded.

"I'd rather hear your reactions, before I tell you what I saw."

"It works exactly as I imagined. My first reaction was overwhelming and completely unbearable. I was surprised at how quickly I was able to build tolerance. I was so intent on my work I forgot you were there. I was definitely not ready to quit. And my tolerance for your pain is significantly higher than it was. Though we're certainly nowhere near the cheerful disregard stage."

"We'll get there. What about when I was laughing?"

"At first, I was irritated because I didn't think it was funny. Then I realized you were teasing me. That you would have cheerfully stood there with the door open, being cold, just for the privilege of laughing at my being cold. I was so surprised that you would dare to do it again, that the irritation vanished. I began to wonder if your whole intent was to see if I would tolerate your laughing at me."

"Would you have?"

"Yes, I think so. Maybe not very gracefully, if you were distracting me. I can get pretty focused."

"I noticed. From the moment you said, 'I wonder if..', I knew that scientifically curious mind of yours was engaged. You would play with that thing for as long as I let you. I was afraid to give you more than a half-hour, but I would guess it felt like minutes."

Koh nodded.

"So," Kirk smiled, "What can we do to engage that scientific mind towards the task of breaking me?"

"That's entirely different!"

"No, it's not. It's just a question of whether the victim is me or you. It's the same curious mind saying, 'I wonder if'. So, just as an academic exercise, what are the ten worst things you can think of to do to me?"

Koh snorted in derision. "Don't give me that 'academic exercise' routine. I know your devious mind too well for that to fool me."

Kirk smiled disarmingly. "In case you've forgotten, you're in charge here. You don't have to do anything I tell you to."

"Yeah, right. Until you say, do it or I will."

Kirk sat forward earnestly. "I'm sorry, Koh. It's not my desire to offend you, nor my intention to exercise manipulative control over you. Can you forgive me for doing that to you?"

"What?" Koh was confused.

"Can you forgive me for telling you what to do, for taking authority I don't have? Would you like for me to go back to Room A and let you make your own decisions? Whatever you want to do is fine with me. I'll just wait."

Kirk rose to go.

"Sit down, Kirk. I know you're only trying to help. I'm sorry for being so stubborn. I really do want your help. I hereby give you permission to push as long and hard as you think necessary to get where you think we need to be. And I will not rescind that permission, no matter how much I regret having given it."

"Koh, I am honored and humbled that you trust me that much." Kirk sat down again. "So, tell me how you feel watching 200? Is it any different from 150?"

"No, not really. But a jump from 200 to 400 would be. And I'm not entirely comfortable with 200 yet."

"We're just going to leave it there for a while. I want to brainstorm some ideas. We don't have to implement any of this. But I want to get your mind working. So can you think of something new, different, or worse than what we've done before?"

They talked for over an hour, discussing drugs, hunger, thirst, fatigue, micro and macro stimuli, and variations on the pain generator. Then Kirk suggested a weight workout. Koh coached the workout, helping Kirk decide how much to attempt, given his injury and time off. After that they went back to Room A, with Koh in the monitoring room. They played with the dial for half an hour, while Kirk guessed the settings under 200. As usual, quite accurately.

"Now, Koh, I want you to put the dial on 400 and leave it there. Do you have a deck of cards, or would you rather play chess?"

"Either is fine."

"Bring both then, and meet me in Room C."

Kirk left without waiting for Koh to jack it up to 400. Koh got out the two games and lingered at the control box. _Just do it_, he told himself firmly. _You don't have to like it. Besides, he's been very lenient, not at all what I expected._ He moved the dial to 400, picked up the games, and went to Room C. Kirk smiled warmly, but did not mention the 400. They played chess for an hour, then cards for another hour. Finally, Kirk sat back in his chair.

"All right, talk to me. How are you feeling now?"

"Tired. I'm not used to staying up all night."

Kirk chuckled. "Neither am I. When does Khich get here?"

"In two hours."

"Do you trust him enough to let him know how you're feeling about all this?"

"A casual comment, maybe, but not the transparency you demand."

Kirk smiled. "I don't demand it; I freely give it, and you respond in kind, for which I am grateful. But that means we have just two hours to wrap this up. Here's what I have in mind. The only way you're going to get over your anxiety is to face it head on. The most likely time to break me is right now, and you know it. I want you to design a program based on some of the stuff we talked about earlier tonight. Set it up so as to throw it all at me at once. Eighty hours minimum and maybe twice that. No communication between us the whole time, except instructions through the wires. So none of the usual feedback you get from me. Have you got a stress reading machine like what you used on board ship?"

"No, but I could hard-wire something to the table you sleep on."

"How about the chair in Room F? I'm not likely to spend much time sleeping."

"Yes, in fact that would be even easier."

"Good. Now how long will it take you to put this together?"

"Assuming I can force myself to do it, the basic plan will take maybe an hour. Lots of details will take a lot longer than that."

"Koh, I will do this for you if I have to. But it will be far better if you do it. Never underestimate the element of surprise."

"Oh, I'm not. The only time I managed to move your stress reading at all was when I surprised you with something new or different." He straightened his back. "I will do it, but I don't quite understand why you want to cut off communication."

"It's just for this one marathon session. After that, it's back to normal. The reason is because I'm more likely to fall apart. If I'm talking to you, I'm more focused on you than on me. The more internally focused, the better. To that end, I'd leave the head device on all the time too.

"You might try the helpless approach too. Instead of telling me what to do, you tell me nothing, not even through the wires. You set it up so that I have absolutely no control over my environment or circumstances. Handcuffs, leg manacles, straps, whatever - you treat me like an uncooperative prisoner. And that's all the advice I'm giving you. I'll be in the weight room, if you need to consult."

Kirk left and Koh spent several minutes in deep thought. Then he turned to his computer and got to work. A little over an hour later his plans were made, and he called Kirk back in. Kirk noticed immediately that Koh was more animated in his body language. It did not appear to be nervous tension. He decided it was the natural result of his work, and was encouraged. Koh served breakfast for them both, insisting that Kirk eat.

"Last meal for the condemned?" Kirk mocked, but cheerfully ate nonetheless.

"Well, how are you coming? Can we implement immediately, or do we have to wait until tomorrow night?"

"I assumed you wanted to start now."

"I do; Konti won't be happy, but it's very much better to do it now."

"We can. But Kirk, are you sure? This will be worse, lots worse than what I've done before. If you survive this, there's only more to come. We can't go back."

"I know. Koh, I'm sure this is what we need to do. I won't say I'm looking forward to it, because I know it's going to be terrible. By the time we're done, I may be climbing the walls, screaming and sobbing for real. But it's okay; I'm willing to go there. And Koh, be very certain of this: no matter what happens, I will not hate you, I promise."


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Six days later, Kirk, Konti, and Koh were relaxing in Konti's home. Koh had finally released Kirk that afternoon. Konti had taken him to the club for a quiet meal, and was grateful Kirk behaved. Now Kirk sat on the floor as usual, apparently at ease. Koh, however, seemed somewhat upset.

"Okay, Koh, what's bothering you?"

"Kirk is what's bothering me. Just look at him! Has he told you anything about what we've been doing?"

"No, we haven't had much opportunity, and I don't usually ask anyway. I was a little surprised he behaved himself this afternoon. But he looks normal to me, so what's the problem?"

"That's the problem. He looks normal, and he shouldn't, not after what he's been through."

He looked over at Kirk, who smiled but said nothing. Kirk was faking normality, and he assumed Koh knew it. Shortly Konti would too, because it looked like Koh needed to talk. Now they were both looking at him.

"If you want to talk about it, I don't mind. Do you want to tell him, or shall I?"

"Kirk, are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. You obviously need to talk about it, so go ahead. I don't need to keep any secrets from Konti."

So Koh talked, giving a blow-by-blow description of the events of that first night. He followed that with a basic outline of his program. Then came a graphic description of exactly what Kirk had suffered through. Outwardly, Kirk listened calmly, but inwardly he was shaking, as Koh's descriptions revived all those memories.

"And he lasted five days, I mean, 120 hours straight. But even his will had finally found its limit. He fell apart yesterday shortly after 1530. He came completely unglued. But even then, the only way I knew it wasn't faked was the stress reader. Anyway, I had to call Korn. He and the inspectors came out. I don't think they believed we didn't fake it, in spite of the stress reader. They grilled Kirk for hours, even though his responses were consistently incoherent. All told, he endured another twelve hours of it after he lost control.

"Even afterwards, the stress reading stayed high. He continued to exhibit out-of-control behavior for another five hours. He pulled it together then only because I told him I would let him out of there if he did. Kirk, how much of what I'm seeing is faked?"

"All of it."

"How can you _do_ that?!"

"With difficulty. And it's not going to last much longer. I'm too exhausted. So if you want anything coherent out of me, now's the time. I don't know if I can last til midnight." Kirk raised bleak eyes to stare at Koh.

"You expect to come back to the lab tonight then?"

"If I'm still on my feet, yes. Otherwise, no promises."

"They said you wouldn't, that if I let you out of there, you'd never come back."

"Not very consistent, are they? So if I manage it, they'll be convinced we faked the whole thing? And if I stay here, they'll throw me in a prison cell. What a choice! I'm about to the point where I don't care. No! That's not true. I do care! I'm just not thinking clearly right now. Lord Jesus, clear my mind." He took a deep breath and looked squarely at Koh. "I will return to your lab."

Koh shook his head in amazement. "Kirk, you're crazy, but that's the best sight I've seen all week! After yesterday, I didn't think that stubborn will of yours would ever recover."

"It hasn't. The power of Jesus Christ will get me there."

"Kirk, are you still afraid of me?"

"Yes, Koh, I'm sorry. I had no idea we'd have this kind of a problem. Weather the storm if you can. It will pass, I think."

"It's not fun any more, Kirk. Not any of it." Koh shook his head, the picture of depression.

"Don't despair, Koh. It may again be fun, at least some of it. Okay if I lift the ban on communications?"

"Yes, absolutely. That was one of the worst parts about the whole thing - not having any idea what you were thinking."

"What was the worst?"

"Two things were worse: the twelve hours after you lost control, and the five hours after that. The twelve hours, because I had to stand there and pretend I didn't care. That was especially hard when they promised you relief. They didn't understand your muttered response, but I did."

"What did he say?" interrupted Konti.

"He said, 'Koh decides.' He was placing the blame for the whole thing squarely on my shoulders."

"I don't think so. He said the same thing to me a month ago, when I was trying to get him to take a nap. I think he was saying that he trusted you, not them. He was not going to be swayed by anything they said. He had placed himself in your hands, and he was content to let you decide when enough was enough."

Koh shook his head in disbelief. "You think he trusted me?! No way! You didn't see what happened afterwards. They left at 0400 this morning, and I immediately switched everything off. But he was wearing a fair amount of paraphernalia, and it took me a long time to get it all off him. Every time I came near him, he tried to attack me. I should have knocked him out; I almost slapped him twice, he was so hysterical. But I just couldn't. Finally I just let him kick, bite, scratch, whatever.

"I got the helmet off him along with all its wires. I'd already done the embedded wires in the back. Then I made the mistake of taking down the lines to the ceiling. If I'd left either the feet or the neck, he probably would've stayed put. It didn't occur to me that he had that much energy left. But as soon as he was loose, he launched himself off that table, ripping the IV's out as he went, and tackled me to the floor. What followed was a bit of a circus. I didn't want to hurt him; he had no such compunction. But he could neither see nor hear, and he was still wearing handcuffs and leg manacles too. I finally got him pinned, picked him up, carried him down to Room E, and locked him in.

"Two hours later, with the monitor showing him quiet, I tried again. As soon as I walked in, he backed into the farthest corner. I don't know how he knew I was there, but he did. The closer I got, the more terrified he looked. I expected him to kick me, but he didn't. He just sat there, every muscle rigid. I put a hand on his knee. He flinched, shuddered, and began to shake, but he still didn't kick. So I slowly reached for his head and managed to take off the head device.

"I don't have that quietly encouraging voice he can turn on at will, so I just told him to lie down and I would take off the face mask. He did, still shaking and flinching at every touch. He let me take off the handcuffs and leg manacles too. Then I left him for another hour, hoping his eyes would adjust. When I came back, his eyes were open, so I asked him if he could see. He nodded, but didn't speak. I had brought him some juice, but he wouldn't take it. So I left it on the floor, and he drank it after I left.

"An hour later, I came back and told him if he got his act together, he could leave. To prove it, he would have to come down to Room A on his own initiative, and stand still while I removed the leads. Then he would have to sit with me in Room C and eat a meal. If he could do those two things without acting as if he was terrified, I would let him go. Took him two hours, but he managed it. Which is to say, he stopped shaking, only flinched twice, and ate the food I gave him. But he never said a word, and the fear was still obvious in his eyes.

"So what he's doing now is markedly better, and I expected it to be worse. Can you account for that, Kirk?"

"Time, distance, and proximity to you."

"So the fear is specific to me?"

"Not entirely, but it's ten times worse with you."

"So Konti could touch you?"

"Koh, save the experiments for the lab."

"Konti won't be there."

"All right, on one condition: so far, you've told the facts. I want you to tell Konti how you feel about all this. Let him help you heal."

"And what about you?"

"We can talk about me later."

"Okay, you've got a deal, provided you do what I tell you to. If you can't do it, the deal's off."

"Understood."

"Konti, sit on the floor facing Kirk, please. Kirk, how does this make you feel?"

"Threatened. I want to back up."

"Don't. Take a deep breath and look Konti in the eye. Konti, what do you see?"

"It's not a full-blown panic, but a definite wariness."

"Okay. Kirk, put your hands on your knees, palms up, open and relaxed."

"You don't ask much."

It took several minutes, but Kirk forced himself to obey.

"Good. Now take your eyes off those hands and look at Konti. What do you see now, Konti?"

"Higher level of anxiety to be sure, but still not panic. Definite presence of that iron will you say is shattered. And this can't be, but he's laughing. Kirk, you can't think this is funny!"

"But it is. It's absolutely ridiculous to be afraid of this, but I am, so that makes me ridiculous."

"All right, Kirk. Close your eyes."

Kirk shuddered involuntarily, but obeyed.

"From this point on, Kirk, not a twitch, or the deal's off. Konti, touch one finger. Doesn't matter which one."

Konti slowly reached out and touched the ring finger of the right hand. Absolutely no reaction.

"Do it again." Still no reaction.

"Three or four more." No response.

"The palm of one hand." "The bottom of one foot." "Someplace else."

Konti chose the center of the forehead, above the brand, where he made a small cross. Kirk remained rock-steady throughout.

"You win, Kirk. Congratulations. Thank you, Konti. Experiment's over. I will now pay up what I owe."

Konti returned to his chair. Kirk smiled and visibly relaxed.

"But first, let me say two things about this. If it had been my finger instead of yours, Kirk would have been climbing the walls by now. I know that's hard to believe, because you haven't seen it, but trust me, it's true. Secondly, and I didn't want you to know this ahead of time, but each touch was physically painful. Kirk's nervous system has been so traumatized that any touch hurts. Am I right, Kirk?"

"Yes."

"He must want you to talk badly."

"He does. I don't think he would have done it just for himself."

"No, I wouldn't have. But I will now. I've just had a powerful demonstration of the fact that the will gets stronger with use. Koh, if you will put off sharing a little longer, I would like to do this again, with you this time. And you can change the rules at your discretion."

"You _invite_ me to push you?! Why?"

"Koh, I don't want to be afraid of you."

"But - Carte blanche? No strings? Anything I want?!"

Kirk shuddered, swallowed convulsively, and nodded.

"Not good enough. It's got to be an audible assent."

Kirk swallowed twice more before he got out the one word, "Yes." It was soft, but clear. He meant it.

"But Kirk! You're terrified! How can you say 'yes' to such a thing?"

Kirk did not reply, so Konti answered for him.

"Koh, he trusts you. He's doing the same thing he did after the mindsifter: correcting the deficiency just as fast as he can."

"But how can he trust me if he's afraid of me?"

"I don't know, but he does."

"All right, I'll do it. Kirk, I wasn't going to ask for this, because it's too much. But this is what I want: we do this twice; first time, you don't try to control it. I want Konti to see what it looks like. Then after you pull yourself together, we do it again. Second time, you can exert all the willpower you can muster. Still willing?"

To Kirk, it sounded like a recipe for disaster, but he was already committed. But Koh was waiting for another audible assent. He managed a 'yes' without having to swallow first. Progress in very small steps was still progress.

Koh stood up and took a step towards Kirk, who scrambled to his feet and backed up two steps. Koh took another step; Kirk backed three. In this way, they eventually ended up in the far corner of the back room. Kirk could go no farther. As Koh moved closer, Kirk plastered himself against the wall and sank to the floor, trying to make himself as small as possible. Eyes wide with fright, Kirk was shaking.

Koh knelt in front of him, and slowly placed his hands on Kirk's knees. Kirk flinched, but did not cry out.

"Does this actually hurt?" Kirk nodded.

"Give me your hand."

Kirk shook his head. Koh reached to take it anyway. Kirk tried to shrink from him, but there was nowhere to go. Koh grabbed Kirk's wrist and pulled his hand up to rest on the knee.

"Does your wrist hurt?" Kirk nodded.

"Does your knee hurt with your own hand on it?" Kirk shook his head.

Koh removed both hands and put them behind his back.

"Konti, grab my wrists and don't let go. Okay, Kirk, I can't possibly touch you now. Does that decrease your fear of me?"

Kirk shook his head.

"So it's more than the pain itself. You're afraid of me as a person."

Kirk nodded.

"Okay. Thank you, Konti. That's all for now. Kirk, come back when you can."

Koh and Konti returned to their chairs in the main room.

"So you see what we're dealing with, Konti. I have no idea how to cope with this. It just makes me sick inside."

"Kirk will conquer it if you let him. Just give it time. Meanwhile, it'll be easier for him if you can ignore it and act normally."

"I don't know what normal is any more."

"Normal is what you were doing when I was on the floor with Kirk. Calmly and cheerfully giving instructions, expecting compliance. Kirk responded with laughter as he forced himself to obey you. That's normal."

Kirk walked in and sat on the floor in his usual place. He appeared calm and in control. His face wore a slight smile as he turned his gaze first on Konti, then on Koh.

"Kirk! That was less than five minutes! How did you do that?"

"It was much easier than this morning. I suppose because I never lost touch with coherent thought. So I'm ready for round two whenever you are."

"Okay. How difficult do you want me to make this?"

"That is for you to decide."

Konti chuckled. "I told you he trusts you."

Kirk smiled briefly and did not deny it.

"All right. On your feet. Stand there, in the middle of the room. Hands out in front, palms open. Close your eyes. Now talk to me. How does this position make you feel?"

"Vulnerable. The instinct for flight is almost irresistible. So is the urge to make these hands into fists. Nearly impossible to keep my eyes closed. And it will get a lot worse when I hear you approach."

"Ask me to come."

Kirk took a deep breath. "Koh, please come here."

Koh did, and stood directly in front of Kirk.

"Well, did it?"

"Yes, but this repeated audible consent is almost as bad, though different."

"Pick a number."

"Seven."

"Double it."

"Fourteen."

"Double it again."

"Twenty-eight."

"Now, you will choose how many times I will touch you: seven, fourteen, or twenty-eight. And ask me to do it."

Kirk took two deep breaths. "Koh, please touch me twenty-eight times."

So Koh did: fingers, hands, arms, face, neck, chest.

Kirk did not try to count them. Each touch felt like cold fire. _You asked for this_, he told himself firmly. _And I will keep asking for it until I no longer fear it, or him._ He let the pain wash over him, accepting it as was his habit. Suddenly he realized Koh was speaking.

"Talk to me. What did that feel like? Tell me about the fear, and the iron will that you obviously have resurrected."

"It felt like tongues of cold fire. But it flowed, almost like rain, or maybe a waterfall. Not very good images, but the best I can come up with right now. I wasn't really paying attention. I was thinking about how to conquer the fear. It's definitely no worse, maybe marginally better. But what makes you think I still have an iron will?"

"Because you haven't moved since I told you to close your eyes. No shaking, shuddering, flinching, twitching, none of that. Your breathing is calm, your body relaxed, your voice shows no sign of stress. In short, exactly what I would expect as normal, until today."

"Well, maybe some of that is a result of willpower, but a lot of it is simply habit."

"Do you fear the pain then?"

"Not while it's happening."

"You said several months ago that I had gentle hands. Do you still think so?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Do you fear the hands?"

"Touch me." Koh put a hand on Kirk's chest.

"Leave it there." Long pause. "Anticipation is everything. Without much time to consider, very little fear builds up. But if you started from across the room, it would be very different. Once you're actually touching me, the fear is gone. There is pain, but it's not getting any worse, at least not so far."

Koh removed his hand. "Is it still difficult to keep your eyes closed?"

"No. I haven't thought about it since you came over here. Again, that might be very different if you started from across the room."

"Do you still want to run away? Or attack me?"

"The fists were not for attack, only defense. I'm surprised; neither instinct seems as overwhelming as it was. Must be the fear is not as strong when I'm not letting it control me."

"All right. Open your eyes. Is the fear better or worse if you can see me?"

"Worse. Adding the visual element makes you more intimidating, I guess. I'm sorry, Koh, it's not rational."

Koh turned away and returned to his chair. Kirk followed, at a distance. Arriving at his customary spot on the floor, he purposefully took one step closer to Koh before seating himself. Konti saw it and smiled at him. Koh did not appear to notice.

"Well, rational or not, we've got to deal with the reality. And I have no idea how. You can't possibly come to the lab and willingly put up with all the things I do to you. And even if you could, I don't think I could stand it."

"Would you rather I run away, get caught, and thrown into a prison cell, or maybe killed on the spot?"

"No, you know I don't want that."

"Then get Konti to kill me right now."

"No! Kirk, be reasonable."

"I am being reasonable. Those are the only alternatives I see. Am I missing something?" Kirk spread his arms and shrugged.

"He's got a point, Koh. You don't really have any choice. I don't like it either, but if Kirk can force himself to keep going, then he obviously prefers it to death. But Kirk, I want you to remember this: if you get to the point of preferring death, come to me and I will do for you what you ask."

"Thank you, Konti. I hope it won't come to that, but I appreciate your offer, and what it would cost you to do that."

"Kirk, did you want to die in the middle of all that yesterday?" Koh asked.

"No, I don't think so. But I thought we were going to talk about you. 'I can't stand it' isn't very descriptive, even if I know what you mean. What exactly can't you stand?"

"I can't stand the fact that you're afraid of me. I can't stand the thought of hours in that lab, chasing you until I have you cornered. And then inflicting more pain than you can stand, listening to you sob and scream, and having to pretend I don't care. And then coming back and doing it all over again. Until either you die, go mad, or run away.

"The inspectors aren't going to give up. They have nothing to lose. The only bright spot in the whole thing is I told them it would be at least a week and maybe a month before I could get you in that state again, if it was even possible at all. They merely said to keep them informed."

"And is that what you really think, or were you just trying to buy us some time?"

"I was mostly buying time for me. I had no idea that you would ever again be coherent enough to talk to me. I gave them some gobbledy-gook about the nervous system, and the delicate balance of variables affecting this situation that I didn't know could be duplicated. The fact is, I knew I couldn't do a repeat of the wires in the back any time soon. It requires rock-steady hands, which I don't have right now. I'm too rattled.

"As for what I really think, I have no idea what to expect. On the one hand, every new thing I've done to you, the second time I try it has less effect simply because it's no longer new. On the other hand, your system is so traumatized that you may not be able to tolerate even a small portion of what I usually do to you."

"Koh, there's nothing I can do about your having to pretend you don't care, except to assure you that I know you do care. You care too much for your own good, and it's my fault. I have tried to be a friend to you, instead of keeping my distance so you could keep yours. But I am not sorry, and I don't think you are either.

"I can't do anything about the fact that we have to keep doing this over and over again, except to keep looking for the humor in the situation."

"Humor! You've got to be kidding!"

"I'm absolutely serious. There's humor to be found in the most unlikely places, and I will search diligently for the precious gift that it is. And if there's no ban on communication, you will know when I find it.

"There's probably nothing I can do about the sobbing and screaming, since by definition, I'm completely out-of-control by then. But there is one thing I can do something about, and that's the fear. If you will work with me on it, the fear can be conquered. I am sure of it. In any event, I want to thank you for showing me that my willpower is merely damaged, not mortally wounded."

"You're quite welcome, but I knew this morning that your willpower was functioning. If it hadn't been, you would still be sobbing in that lab, and cowering every time I came near you. And yes, I will help you conquer the fear if I can. But I have a couple of questions. First, you wanted me to cheerfully disregard the cost to you of what I do. You don't still expect that, do you?"

"Expect is maybe not the right word. I still want it though. If I can conquer the fear, will you try?"

"I have no idea how to try, but I'm willing, for whatever that's worth. The other question is complicated. You said you would not hate me, no matter what happened. And I believe that you don't. But- I'm not even sure what I'm trying to ask you."

"Just talk. Maybe the question will emerge."

"Several of the things I did to you were brand-new, not things we'd talked about. The stuff we talked about was just foundational - background, as it were. If I was really going to break you, I needed several completely new elements that were really awful, and I had to make them all happen at once. And it worked.

"You said you didn't care, but how could you _not_ care? Why don't you hate me? After saying I didn't want you to fall apart, I did my very best to make it happen, and I succeeded. And as a result, you're an absolute mess! But you don't seem to think there's anything terribly wrong that can't be fixed. When I look into your eyes, there's no sense of having been betrayed. There's no anger. No need to place blame on anyone, least of all me.

"I don't know if you can find a question in there that you can answer, but talk to me anyway."

"Koh, if anyone is to blame for this, it's me. I told you to do this. I didn't want you to be afraid of it. I wanted to show you that it was not the catastrophe you thought. And I still don't think it is, though I'll admit, this morning I wasn't so sure. Even then, however, I was not angry. The idea of betrayal never entered my thinking. Do you think that because I attacked you?"

"No. I think that was a drug-induced reaction. This is more a basic response to the whole thing."

"Why would I associate betrayal with something I had asked you to do?"

"Maybe it's more what I feel. I haven't been true to the way I feel. I didn't want to do this, but I did it anyway. So I feel as if I have betrayed my true feelings. And seeing the results has made it worse. It makes me sick, and I despise myself."

"Koh, you don't need to despise yourself for doing what you had to, in spite of your feelings about it."

"But I didn't _have_ to do it."

"What was the alternative?"

"Continue to mess around with stuff I already knew you could take. Essentially just putting in our time."

"Koh, that is unsatisfactory and you know it. Korn wouldn't put up with that for more than a day or two. But more important, you yourself couldn't do that. You demand excellence from yourself and nothing less will do. You might refuse to continue, but you will never tolerate sloppy work.

"Koh, listen to me. I'm sorry it was so awful. It was worse than I expected. I forgot that anything bad enough to really break me would have to be magnitudes worse than anything that had gone before. But as awful as it was, I am not sorry you did it. I've known and accepted from the beginning that it was your job to break me, and I am not sorry you succeeded. And just because it was magnitudes worse than I expected does not change the fact that nothing very catastrophic has happened. We have some damage control to see to, but the ship is not fatally wounded. And the same will be true, no matter how many times you push me over the edge. If you don't physically kill me, I _will_ recover."

"He's right, Koh. Kirk can recover from anything. He's proved it more than once."

"But if I drive you over the edge without giving you enough time to recover, eventually you'll be unable to climb out at all," Koh protested.

"But you will. Remember their goal is to get me to talk, not kill me. Anticipation is everything, so you drive me crazy with fear of it, until I'm not afraid. Then of course, you have to do it again, just a little worse than the last time. But recovery time is built in. And if I'm too incoherent to know what's going on, you just give me more recovery time.

"Granted, when this does not produce the desired results, they will eventually force you to shorten the recovery time. But when they do that, they are admitting defeat, and just trying to prolong my death. Anyway, that should take a while. The mindsifter will probably interrupt the program, and who knows what else may come along to change things."

"So it's in your best interests to stay afraid as long as possible."

"If my goal were avoidance of pain, yes. But then my goal would be to avoid fear as well, since fear has its own kind of pain. But my goal has never been avoidance of pain. I will banish the fear if I can, because of what it does to you, even knowing what you will have to do when I succeed."

"I would rather live with the fear than have to do this again."

"Koh, you're going to have to do it again, probably many times. The only question is how soon. Better for you to accept it now. And if you're honest with yourself, you hate the fear as much as any of the rest of it."

"How come you know me so well?"

"We've been working closely together now for months. Transparency is contagious." He grinned. "And you're not sorry either."

"All right Kirk, you win. I have to go soon. Some preparation time before you get there. Konti, sorry to spend the whole evening talking shop, so to speak."

"Quite all right. I'm available whenever you need to talk."

"Kirk, if you want, I can take a few more minutes to play your little game again, before I go."

Without hesitation, Kirk replied, "Yes. I would like that."

The fear was definitely under control. As soon as Koh stood up, however, Kirk had to fight down a major panic attack. Koh saw it in his face and rigid body.

"I thought that reply seemed a little too easy."

They spent about twenty minutes. Koh played with Kirk's mind, keeping him guessing, trying to drive him crazy with fear. Konti sensed that Koh was doing exactly what Kirk wanted him to, but Kirk was working too hard to comment. When they were finished, all he said was, "Thank you, Koh. I'll see you at midnight, and that's a promise."

After Koh left, Kirk and Konti discussed the translation work. Konti had managed to acquire a copy of the book of John in Standard. They discussed most of the first chapter before it was time for Kirk to go. He had purposely delayed his departure, so that he would have to jog non-stop all the way there in order to arrive on time. He didn't want any extra time for pondering tonight. The principal task was to get there. What happened after that, he would not let himself think about.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Koh was waiting for him in Room A. Kirk was breathing heavily.

"Kirk, are you all right?"

"Just... winded. Not enough... exercise... lately."

"You _ran_ all the way here?!"

"Jogged, yes. Longest twenty minutes of my life."

"Come next door. Supper's on the table."

They ate in companionable silence. Kirk seemed relatively at ease. With the meal over, Koh wanted to talk.

"How much energy does it take to control the fear in this environment?"

"Do you mean here in this room eating, or the lab in general?"

"I meant in this room, but I'm interested in both answers."

"The lab in general is a much more threatening place than Konti's home, for obvious reasons. This room is among the less threatening parts of the lab. We talk here, but other than food and drink torture, you don't _do_ anything in here."

"What about Room A?"

Kirk shuddered. "The place gives me the creeps."

"What about sleep?"

"In Room A?! Not a chance."

"How about in here?"

"With you in here? I doubt it. What about Room E?"

"Not available. I'm planning a surprise for you. Sort of a reward."

"For good behavior? You think I need an incentive?"

"No, I do. You get Room E when you conquer the fear. I want to hear you laugh. I think you'll find it hysterically funny. But I'm not risking the possibility of screams instead.

"So you can sleep in the weight room. That's the best I can do. Here's the program: you sleep for the next six hours. That's followed by a workout and breakfast. That leaves us about four hours to work with. Between now and then, I want you to go into Room A two or three times. Just spend a few minutes, no big battles, just acclimation. Can you do that?"

"Probably. Easier if you're not in there."

"I won't be. May not even be watching, but I won't guarantee it."

So Kirk spent five minutes in Room A before going to bed. It was awful. He stood rigidly by the door, and stared at the table. Screaming heebie-jeebies was a mild word for how he felt. He did not actually scream, but he was shaking badly by the time he left. He tried again in the morning. Not much better, in spite of the fact that he was much more rested. The workout he enjoyed; it felt refreshingly normal, in the midst of so much else that wasn't.

After breakfast, Koh wanted to check out his reactions to Rooms D and F. Room D produced only a mild reaction. Kirk knew what went on in there, but none of it was directly associated with his memory of the past week. To his surprise, Room F produced no more reaction. He had spent many hours in that chair in the first part of the week. But his memory of those hours was not particularly traumatic.

Room A was a completely different story, and that's where they headed next. Kirk entered with visible reluctance, walked firmly to the middle of the room, and turned to face Koh.

"Well?"

"Night and day difference between this and the other rooms. And only marginally better than last night. In fact, with you in here, it's markedly worse. The instinct for flight is a major battle."

"What are you going to do about it?" Koh asked a little belligerently.

"Fight it ruthlessly until it gives up."

"How?"

"You want _me_ to orchestrate this?" Kirk wasn't appalled, just surprised.

"Yes. You can have three hours. What's your goal? And what do you want me to do?"

Kirk thought for a moment. "One of the focal points of the fear is you. I would like to start by having you do here what you did in Konti's home. My goal is to avoid running away. I don't think I can control the rest of it. Will you do it anyway?"

"All right. Close your eyes."

Kirk shuddered. "No. I can't. Maybe later."

By the end of three hours, Kirk could stand rock-steady, eyes closed, body relaxed, while Koh approached from anywhere in the room and touched him randomly. But Koh very carefully avoided Kirk's spine.

Koh called a halt and insisted Kirk eat again. Part of the recovery program, he quipped. Kirk acquiesced with good humor. When Konti arrived, Koh told him he was ordering a ban on public appearances for Kirk until further notice.

"I know what generally goes on, and I'm not okaying it for several days at least. Better they not see him at all, than that he acquire a reputation for behaving himself. And that goes for parties at home too. Any visitors other than Korn, Kezak, or myself, Kirk stays out of sight. Is that clear?"

"No argument from me," Kirk admitted. "The internal calm that can weather any storm is still missing in action."

So they had lots of extra time to devote to the translation work. Kezak stopped in, but didn't stay long, when it was obvious Kirk was in no condition for any creative discussion of public torture. That evening Konti broached the subject of healing.

"Kirk, the Lord has healed you several times. Why don't you ask Him to heal this fear, too?"

"Good question. Let's ask Him about it."

After several minutes of silent prayer, Kirk responded.

"I think it's because Koh needs to see what's normal before we ask for the miraculous. Don't worry about me; I'll be okay. But you might pray for Koh. This is being very difficult for him, and it's not likely to get easier. At least the heat is off you for now. Maybe the Lord arranged this to give us more time for the translation work."

"Maybe, but Kirk, where will it all end?" Konti shook his head dejectedly.

"You've asked me that before. The obvious answer is death. We've talked about heaven; we've talked about what you will do after I'm gone. We've even talked about what's likely to happen between now and then. But there's something else behind your question. Can you articulate what you're really asking?"

"How can you be so uncaring about what happens to you? I know I've asked that before too, but I just don't understand you. I know what you're facing; I have some idea how awful it will be; I know you're terrified of it, and it would take a great deal to terrify you. Yet you just say, 'don't worry, I'll be okay.' There has to be a limit, even for you."

"There is; we just found it."

"No, you didn't. You just found the point at which you can't control your reaction to it. But you have not died, gone mad, or run away."

"You're right, of course. But for obvious reasons, I would prefer that the inspectors don't reach that conclusion. So if you would be so kind as to keep that observation to yourself, I would be grateful."

"Okay, but- I don't know how to say this. You're terrified, and yet you're not. Your being terrified doesn't seem to affect your willingness to do it again. And from the sound of it, you expect to do it again, and again, and again. Is there no limit to your willingness?"

"I hope not. I will do my best to avoid going mad, or running away. There is a limit to what my body can take. If Koh is as good as I think he is, he'll arrange it to maximize the terror while keeping my body at the max it can tolerate, without exceeding the max. If he exceeds it, I die. If not, I will tolerate the pain, even if I'm screaming that I can't. Koh knows very well what I can tolerate.

"It's what my emotions can take that's being tested. How much fear can I tolerate? At what point will I simply refuse to go on, either by physically running away, or checking out mentally? I don't know the answer, but I will fight the terror with everything I have. When and if that no longer works, I will accept the terror the same way I accept the pain. Neither will destroy me. Of that I am utterly certain."

xxxx

The next morning at the lab, Koh wondered if Kirk had lost the ground he'd gained the day before. But Kirk handled the game with the same rock-steadiness he had finished with - until Koh ran a finger down Kirk's spine. He screamed, arched his body in agony, and collapsed to the floor, holding his face in his hands, his body racked with silent sobs. Koh knelt beside him.

"I'm sorry, Kirk. I shouldn't have done that."

It was several minutes before Kirk could respond.

"Don't be sorry, Koh. I want you to do it again."

Kirk worked at it relentlessly, and by the end of that session, Kirk could again stand rock-steady, even when Koh touched his spine. The third day, Kirk discovered that Koh's touch no longer hurt. His nervous system was recovering. So he turned his attention to conquering his fear of the table. That took two days, but thereafter he returned to sleeping on the table. The fifth day he began wearing the leads again, and they started experimenting with his tolerance for pain. The sixth day he wore the head device, and had his tolerance back up to 400. On the seventh day, Koh sent him to Room E.

"You've earned it. Have fun!"

Kirk's first impression was that the room was full of something, from wall to wall and floor to ceiling, though not being able to see or hear, he had very little idea what it was full of. From the smell, or lack of it, he was guessing it was non-organic. Also, there didn't seem to be any shortage of air, as if the something took up space, but not the entire volume of the room.

He took one step into the room, and was instantly surrounded. The something didn't press against him, but lightly grazed his skin on all sides. Hampered by the handcuffs, his hands could not get a purchase on anything. He took three more steps. The motion gave him the impression that the something was rounded in shape, but he still couldn't manage to grab hold of anything. His reach was extremely limited with his hands pinned behind him.

Suddenly, the something, or somethings, came to life and grabbed him. He felt one tentacle wrap itself around his neck, another around his arm, two more around his legs. Then suction cups planted themselves on various parts of his skin. He stood stock still in surprise. He had been certain the something was not alive. Abruptly an image from a children's book came unbidden to his mind, and he burst out laughing. Immediately the tentacles and suction cups retreated. Koh let him laugh for several minutes.

"Well? If you're right, that took you 1.2 minutes."

"It's the fifty-ton, mile-long, giant, killer octopus come to life." And Kirk burst into renewed laughter, undiminished by a second attack of the 'octopus.'

"You're right, it's hysterically funny, but probably wouldn't have been a few days ago. What did you do: scour the mindsifter data for a monster out of my childhood?"

"I didn't, but someone else did. I told them you would think it was funny. They didn't believe me."

"Is the thing fragile? I'd like to explore, but I don't want to ruin this expensive toy."

"Go ahead. You can't hurt it, but it's programmed to attack you. And if you struggle, it will tighten its grip, so be warned. I won't necessarily be able to see you well enough to know if you're in trouble."

"Understood."

Kirk played with the octopus for over an hour. At the end of it, he had managed to so confuse its programming that he was lounging on several of its tentacles without being attacked. It was not, of course, a mile long, nor a killer, but it was a giant, and did sort of behave like an octopus. Much more real than the one in the book, but that was part of what made it funny. In the book, it had been a practical joke, and so was this.

"I hope they didn't spend too much money on this toy. I hate to disappoint their expectations."

"Don't be sorry. I have rivals that envy my work with you. I don't mind putting them in their place."

After leaving Room E, they spent a couple of hours debriefing the marathon session that had broken Kirk. It was a mark of Kirk's control over the fear, that he shared thoughts, impressions, and opinions with complete transparency. Koh marveled.

"Are you really no longer afraid of it, that you can share openly and make suggestions for improvement?"

"I still fear it, but the fear is not controlling me. I chose complete transparency when we started this, and I'm not going to change now. But I'm just as glad you didn't ask me these questions last week."

xxxx

The next night Koh inserted IV's and had six injections laid out. Kirk's eyes were haunted when Koh told him to lie down on the table. _This is it,_ he thought. Major panic attack. He almost bolted. Body rigid with the effort to control it, he took a step towards the table. Then another. Barking mental orders at himself, Kirk managed to comply. Lying on his back, he only just barely managed to control the shaking. Koh strapped him down and left him for an hour or so. By the time he returned, Kirk had the fear well under control. Or he thought he did, until Koh walked in.

"If you're going to give me this much time to adjust to everything, it'll take all night to get this set up."

"Is that a problem?"

"Suit yourself. I'm not going anywhere."

"You're not fooling me, Kirk. I've got the stress reader."

"What does it say?"

"That it took you almost 45 minutes to bring it down from 'climbing the wall' state to 'under control, but just barely.' Good thing there's no stress reader monitoring me. Who knows what it would say."

Kirk smiled encouragingly. "You're doing just fine, Koh. Not a tremor in sight."

Koh had been attaching wires as he talked. Now he put the helmet over Kirk's head with a final comment.

"Have a good ride!"

Kirk actually laughed. But when Koh flipped him face down, he gasped. He tried to relax, but it didn't work. Handcuffs, leg manacles, and lines to the ceiling made him feel like a trussed chicken. His courage felt like a chicken too. Oh well, this was not going to take five days this time. More like five hours, if Koh would just get on with it.

But Koh didn't. Hours went by with no further change. If it weren't for the line to the ceiling attached to his collar, Kirk could have slept. That is, if he could have banished the fear, which he couldn't. Koh knew that the one thing Kirk couldn't stand was the wires in the back. Kirk wished he would just do it and get it over with. This waiting for it was driving him crazy.

It struck him suddenly that that was precisely Koh's intent. He was doing exactly what Kirk had told Konti that he would do: drive him crazy with the fear of it. He began to laugh.

Koh watched the stress reading plummet.

"Mind telling me what's so funny?"

"Me, you, the whole situation. It's taken me this long to realize what you're doing. I told Konti you would, but did I recognize it? No. Sometimes, I'm not very smart."

"And what am I doing?"

"Prolonging the anticipation and the fear, driving me crazy as I sit here waiting for what I can't stand."

"The last time I checked, you were not sitting."

Kirk laughed again. "Indeed. Koh, your dry humor reminds me of someone, don't know who, another of those lost memories."

"Kirk, tell me about the fear. What's happened to it?"

"It's gone! I mean completely gone. I didn't even realize it until just now. So you can put those wires in my back whenever you like, now or later, I don't care."

"How do you account for that?"

"I don't. It's entirely unexpected. I would call it a miracle, but I wasn't even asking for one. God just did it. Maybe Konti asked Him to, I don't know. But I'm grateful nonetheless. Sorry it spoils your report, though. But not sorry enough to want to return to fear-crazed trauma. I'll let you know if it comes back, though you'll probably know it before I do, if you're looking at the stress reader."

xxxx

Spock became gradually aware that Jim was enduring severe trauma. Other than pray for him, there was nothing Spock could do. But it went on for several days. McCoy, Chuck, and Young all noticed. Others maybe did too, but didn't say anything. Formerly, Spock would have denied the problem. Now he freely admitted what was wrong, and asked for prayer. When Chuck prayed, suddenly the trauma stopped, and all was peaceful.

"Thank you, Chuck. Jim is fine now. Whatever was wrong isn't any more. The Lord has fixed it."


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Kirk's fear did not return. Koh sent him home at the usual time. He returned the next night, still completely at peace. Konti had indeed prayed for him, and was greatly encouraged by his testimony. Koh tried by various means to crack it unsuccessfully. Kirk just laughed.

The third night, Kirk was nearing exhaustion, having had no sleep for two days. He was talking to the Lord about it on the way to the lab.

_The way I see it, either tonight or sometime tomorrow, Koh's going to put in those wires. He'll undoubtedly start giving me real drugs instead of placebos. And stop giving me twelve hours off. In for the duration, as it were. Who knows, he might even have something new up his sleeve. This peace is absolutely wonderful! Here's my question, Lord. Will the peace continue after I fall apart? Or do You have to lift it in order for me to fall apart? I don't have to have an answer. It just would be nice to know what to expect._

_ Why do you assume you're going to fall apart? I could take away all the pain as easily as I took the fear._

_ You're running this show, Lord. Whatever You want to do is fine with me. But You might want to consider that they already think I'm weird. Doesn't seem like this is at all necessary. But You do what You want. I'm a willing tool in Your hands._

_ It is good that you are willing. There is much to endure. Better for you not to know what I'm going to do._

_ Okay. I trust You, Lord._

Kirk sensed a change in Koh as soon as he walked into the lab. They were through messing around. He wondered if Koh knew how clearly he was telegraphing his intentions. He smiled into Koh's over-serious and slightly anxious eyes.

"It's all right, Koh. I trust you. And what I said the last time still holds. Whatever happens, I will not hate you."

"How do you know this is it?"

"I can read it in your eyes and body language."

"Is the fear still gone then?" Koh asked hopefully.

"Not a sign of it, but I won't be entirely surprised if it returns before this is over. But don't worry, I'll be okay, even if it sounds like I'm not."

It took the better part of an hour to set it all up. There were two new elements, but he doubted if anything could be as bad as the wires in the back. Koh turned it all on at once, giving him no time to adjust. It was immediately overwhelming and absolutely awful. If anything, it was worse than he remembered. He couldn't even sort out the various pieces of it. It washed over him like a tidal wave.

Interestingly, his first reaction was anger. He wanted to fight back at this invasion. He wasn't angry with Koh, but at the pain itself. Even so, this was not an effective way to deal with it. He spoke to the anger and insisted it depart. He would accept the pain, all of it. He would accept the invasion, the overwhelming awfulness.

Koh watched the stress reader and listened to Kirk breathe. After an initial spike, Kirk's stress level returned to its stubbornly consistent low reading. His breathing was ragged and erratic at first, though not dangerously so. After about fifteen minutes, it returned to the steady rhythm of the previous night.

"Can you talk?"

"With difficulty. Congratulations. You finally did it."

"Did what?"

"Dared to throw the whole thing at me at once."

"And?"

"I can't sort out the pieces. But a definite sense that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts."

"Yet you swallow the whole thing in fifteen minutes flat!" Koh pounded his fist on the counter in exasperation.

"So far, yes. If nothing changes, I'll probably reach physical exhaustion first: the point at which I no longer have the strength to raise my head enough to breathe."

"Does that worry you?"

"No. My life is in God's hands."

"Will you still think so hours from now?"

"Yes, I will."

"We'll see."

Hours went by with no change. Kirk was bored. He prayed for grace, strength, and patience. The will to endure was still going strong, and the fear was nowhere to be found. Kirk was grateful.

Sometime the next day, Koh was forced to lower the line attached to Kirk's collar. Able to breathe again, Kirk gratefully relaxed his muscles. The pain levels were too high for real sleep, but he spent much of the next day in a kind of stupor. No sense of time. Very little coherent thought. Just an over-abundance of pain. And no urgent need for it to stop.

Koh let it go on for a full three days. Kirk's reaction never changed. What he could not stand before, he had now conquered. Koh didn't see how, but there was no arguing with the fact that he had done it. Kirk didn't talk much. When Koh asked him a question, he responded coherently, but slowly, as if half-asleep. He lay relaxed and unmoving; the stress reading stayed low. In the early hours of the fourth day, Kirk suddenly spoke.

"Koh? Did you just turn off the power?"

"No. I haven't touched anything for days. Why?"

"I still have power in the Room F program, but the rest of it just went suddenly dead. I thought maybe you were playing a new game."

"No, I'm not. That's very odd. Things look okay from here. I'm coming in to check your end."

Moments later Koh entered, checked all the paraphernalia, and found nothing wrong. Then he removed several of the leads and placed them on his own skin. They worked as well as before. He checked each of the devices in the same way, even removing one of the wires from Kirk's back. They were all in working order. He returned to the monitoring room.

"Kirk, can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear."

"There's nothing wrong with the system. What's wrong is with you. I'm sorry."

"Koh, you sound as if you've just announced that I have some terminal illness."

"Yes. I've turned everything off. I'm coming back in there."

Koh returned to Room A and removed the helmet so Kirk could hear.

"I'd like to take out the wires in your back first. I need you absolutely still. If I have to, I'll knock you out first."

"Not necessary. Go ahead. I won't move."

Koh worked quickly but carefully. True to his word, Kirk did not so much as twitch. Koh would almost have felt better if he had. He took off the head wires, the leads and skin patches, and the new device on the back of the neck. He peeled the gloves off Kirk's hands, and the footpads off his feet. Kirk remained relaxed and unmoving. How very different from the last time he'd done this. Nonetheless, as a precaution, he unplugged the IV's before taking down the lines to the ceiling.

Kirk chuckled. "Relax, Koh. I'm not going to attack you. I'm fine."

"That's what you think. I know better. But let me finish this."

Without removing the handcuffs or leg manacles, he flipped Kirk onto his back, leaving him strapped to the table, his hands under him. Koh removed the large skin patch on Kirk's belly, pulling hairs as he went. No reaction from Kirk. He took off the rest of the skin patches and all the leads, leaving the face mask for last. He admitted to himself that he didn't want to see Kirk's eyes, but it wasn't fair to Kirk, so he peeled the face mask off too. Kirk smiled up at him.

"Koh, what's bugging you? What do you think is wrong with me?"

"Permanent nerve damage. I'm not sure yet how extensive, or what level of dysfunction will be the result." Koh shook his head and began to put away the leads.

"How long would it take you to do enough tests to find out?"

"A complete set of tests would take about eight hours. Why?"

"Do it now."

Koh abandoned his busy work and came back to the table. "Kirk! You don't know what you're asking for. The tests are very painful. What your system needs right now is rest, not more trauma."

"Koh, I don't think there's anything wrong with me. I feel better than I've felt in weeks. I don't need rest. What I do need is to prove to you that my nervous system is in perfect working order. So do the tests, please. And since when is pain a reason for not doing something? Everything we do in here is supposed to produce pain of one kind or another."

"All right, but if I see the slightest sign of hysteria, I'm quitting. And you have to be coherently responsive."

"Understood."

The next eight hours were interesting. No one test took very long, but there were hundreds of them. By the time they were finished, Kirk understood Koh's hesitation. It had been a strenuous workout both mentally and physically. He would not have been able to complete it had he been exhausted. The last test over, they sat at the table in Room C. Koh served up a tall glass of juice for each of them.

"Yes, drink it. Now, talk to me. I admit the tests prove you're right, but I don't understand it."

"I have only one possible explanation: God did it."

Kirk went on to share his conversation with the Lord on the way to the lab.

"He left the Room F program running, because He knows I don't consider that painful. (It's boring; you need to write some new programs; but even new ones wouldn't be painful.) Anyway, in addition to taking all the pain, He gave me an abundance of energy, as if I'd slept twelve hours or more. In fact, I still feel great. I'm not afraid of you, or the wires. I could take another three days of it, starting now. But I have a few pointers."

"Kirk, you can't be serious!"

"Why not? Better to debrief it now, while it's fresh. The skin patch on the belly works about 150% better than the clamp thing you used before. Ditto for the hands. The strips of the stuff on all the rest of the available skin was also very effective. Strips are better than solidly covering, I think. The effect of the whole thing is hard to describe. Pinpricks more than knives, but more an all-over sensation than the leads. And even though it's all over, the focus is on the face, hands, and belly.

"The new thing on the back of the neck didn't seem all that useful to me. Just gave me a headache, and I've had lots worse. I'd send that device back for rework. And I'd skip the drugs next time. Maybe I'm building up a tolerance, but I hardly noticed whatever they were supposed to be doing to me. And if you can't write new programs, I'd skip the Room F hardware too. I've got them memorized, and they don't even keep me distracted any more.

"But the biggest change I recommend has to do with the line from my collar to the ceiling. The whole thing is much harder to take if I have to keep my muscles tensed in order to breathe. After you lowered the line, I could almost sleep through it. So I think you should skip the preliminary efforts to exhaust me. Go straight to the max right from the beginning and see how long I can last. Especially if there's no fear factor."

"Kirk, I've said it before, and I'll undoubtedly say it again. You are incredible! Konti will be here in a few minutes. We'll see how you feel about all this tonight."

Kirk spent the afternoon helping Konti translate several passages he was unsure about. That evening Kezak showed up for a conference. Konti wasn't sure Kirk was up for that.

"Kirk, if you don't want to deal with this right now, I'll get rid of him. But he's been pestering me for days. So I scheduled this." Konti spread his hands and shrugged.

"Konti, I told you, I'm fine, not like last time at all. I'd be happy to spend the evening with Kezak. Has he come up with any new plans?"

"You'll have to ask him. I won't discuss it when you're not here. Annoys him, but too bad. I'm not okaying anything without knowing your thoughts on it. And you know my opinion about most of the stuff you two cook up."

Kirk chuckled. "Awful, but doable. And you'll reluctantly be talked into doing it. After all, it can't be worse than 1500 lashes."

Kezak's plan called for a one and a half hour show, which they would take on tour. Only after showing it in neighboring cities would they book it for the capital. Konti was the star of the show, and would display by various means his control over Kirk. The show would begin with a twenty minute narration of how Kirk had been conquered, acted out by Kirk, Konti, and Koh. It was fiction, but contained enough fact to be eminently believable. In Kezak's estimation, the combination of dramatic lighting, precise choreography, and live action would create a spectacular effect.

Following that, Kirk would don the head device, along with hand and leg restraints. Konti would force him through a complex obstacle course using only the whip for direction. They planned several falls and near disasters to keep audience interest at a peak. The most spectacular was a fall from the tightrope into the water tank. Kirk would then pretend to be panic-stricken and drowning, splashing water everywhere. Konti would wrap the whip around his neck and pull him from the water, then force him back to the tightrope.

There was considerable discussion over whether he should fall a second time. Kirk thought it made sense if he did. Kezak agreed, but it was better for the flow and momentum of the performance if he didn't. Instead, it would be best if he merely looked as if he was going to fall three or four times. Kirk said he would have to practice that.

For the finale of the obstacle course, they would dim the lights, and light up a floor grid covering the whole center section of the arena. They would demonstrate that the lighted areas of the floor were electrified. Only by keeping to the dark spots could the maze be safely negotiated. At this point in the discussion, Kezak turned to Konti.

"How much do you trust Kirk?"

"What do you mean?"

"What I'm about to suggest risks Kirk's life. One wrong move, one misunderstood instruction, and he's dead. We can't fake it either. The audience will demand the real thing. But it would be ever so much more spectacular, more suspenseful, if your life were at risk also. Are you willing to let Kirk carry you through the maze on his shoulders? And can you accurately wield the whip from that position?"

"Trust him not to dump me, or trust him not to make a mistake and fry us both?"

"Either or both."

Konti looked at Kirk, who grinned but said nothing.

"I would say a prior question is whether Kirk can trust me not to make a mistake."

"My life is in God's hands. You can't kill me until He's ready for you to, and that includes accidents."

"Does this mean you want to do this?" Konti sat forward, wanting to make sure.

"It sounds like fun. And it certainly would be spectacular proof that you control my every move, and are so confident of that control that you stake your life on it."

"All right, count me in. There's no question that I trust Kirk."

The last part of the show would be a public beating, with the audience determining the specifics: number of strokes, Kirk's position, level of reaction permitted, etc. And the persons delivering the beating would be chosen from the audience as well. Kirk, of course, would deliver something less than what they had asked for. If they taped his mouth, he would whimper and moan. If they left the head device on, he would deliver an appropriately shocked reaction to the lash. If they required motionlessness, he would act as if he were trying hard to comply, but was simply unable. As they wrapped up the evening's discussion, Kirk had a concern.

"What's the likelihood that there'll be anybody in the audiences who will see through the act and know what we're really doing?"

"I know perhaps a dozen people on this planet who will understand what they are seeing. Not one of them will give you away. They value rare talent, and care not that you happen to be an enemy of the State."

The first show was scheduled for three days hence. It came off without a hitch, and was a marvelous success, according to Kezak. Kirk had worn the head device for most of the show, and so had no idea what the audience response was. Konti and Kezak both agreed the audience loved it. Thereafter they did three shows a week. They could have booked more, but Koh insisted they space them to give time for Kirk's back to heal.

After the first week, it was obvious that Konti was going to be making a lot of money at this - a fact which made Konti somewhat uncomfortable. Kirk was amused.

"I just don't think it's right to exploit you."

"Why not? Isn't that what slaves are for?"

"Kirk! In spite of the legalities, you are not my slave, never have been, and we both know it!"

"On the contrary. That is exactly what I am. That we are also friends does not change the fact that you own me. I like Kezak's show. I like the image it portrays. I enjoy doing it. I especially enjoy working with you. But even if I hated every minute of it, it would still be the right thing to do. I'm glad you're making money at it, and I don't feel exploited."

"You _enjoy_ it?!"

"It's great fun. I like the challenge; I like the level of precision required; I like the mutual trust; and I like to act. It amuses me to pretend. I'm sorry you don't enjoy it. It would be easier if you could learn to laugh at yourself. You take life too seriously."

The nightly sessions with Koh continued, although their schedule now had to be subject to Kezak's show times. There was only one more marathon session, and that lasted only two and a half days. Kirk said he only needed four hours of recovery time before the show. Koh insisted he needed eight hours. He lasted the two and a half days without falling apart, without even becoming too exhausted to hold his head up.

He then slept for four hours, ate a meal, and boarded the flitter for the two hour ride to the show site. Since Kezak had no instructions, Kirk took a nap on the floor behind the back seats. Koh woke him by running a finger down his spine. Kirk's voice was sleepy, but amused.

"Good morning, Koh. Nobody but you would think to do that. I'm glad to know that you dare. File this for your medical report: nerves working just fine; some residual pain; no fear. We'll have to debrief the rest of it tomorrow."

The show went fine, with Kirk in top form. The next night Kirk and Koh were in the lab talking. Kirk summarized his perceptions of the two and a half days.

"I don't know what else to suggest. I'm fresh out of ideas," Kirk admitted.

"Well, I'm not. There are several things I'd like to mess around with. They're not designed primarily to break you, though I suppose it's not entirely impossible. Frankly, right now, they're placing their hopes on the new mindsifter, so the pressure is somewhat eased."

So they spent their time testing new devices Koh had been given, new drugs ditto, and the usual fun and games with weight workouts, Room F programs, and Room E surprises. The best part about those days was that Koh had regained his equilibrium and was his normal cheerful self again. They joked around a lot, and made light of Kirk's suffering. Thoroughly enjoyable.


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

The observers' panel was returned to Starbase 7. _Enterprise_ was given ten days shore leave. Pierce held open court for the panel's findings to be presented. All the senior officers attended, even Young. Each of the panel members said essentially the same thing they'd said three months previously. Except that now, Sam, Chuck, and Gliff were Christians. And they were pretty bold about it. But because Lila and Sullivan too refused to make up evidence, Pierce had little choice how to rule the case.

He found the Christians not guilty, and declared that Starfleet would not discriminate against officers who proclaimed their Christian faith. The entire courtroom cheered, and gave Pierce a standing ovation. As the crowd calmed down, someone in the third or fourth row shouted, "What about Captain Kirk?"

More or less immediate silence, as they awaited Pierce's reply.

"Captain Kirk was acquitted of the charge against him. This case is not, and never was, about Captain Kirk personally."

"The Klingons kidnapped him, and you've done nothing about it! Isn't that discrimination?"

Pierce glared for a moment, tempted to fine the offender. But decided against it. Public opinion ran pretty hot on this subject.

"That issue is outside my jurisdiction. Court adjourned."

The senior officers bid an affectionate goodbye to Chuck, and the _Enterprise_ departed.

xxxx

In the days that followed, Young watched carefully to observe differences in the crew, now that the observers were gone. He couldn't find any. Perhaps they were still performing, because they knew he was watching. But it didn't seem so, and Spock certainly wasn't.

The daily sessions in the gym continued whenever their schedules permitted. Spock continued to make no visible progress, and Young continued to take full advantage of Spock's inability to see. Young was a bit surprised at McCoy's reaction. They were eating lunch and McCoy joined them.

"Mind if I join you?" McCoy sat without waiting for approval.

"By all means, Doctor, please do." Young was cordial. Spock did not reply, knowing it to be pointless to try to avoid McCoy, especially when he had no particular reason to.

"Cat got your tongue, Spock? Or has the Captain finally beaten you speechless?"

"I am quite well, Doctor."

After a moment, McCoy went on. "Spock, are you going to keep this up forever? It's okay to accept defeat. The crew is tired of watching you get beat all the time. It's demoralizing."

"Doctor, if I am not demoralized, why should they be?"

"They want to see you win. It's funny, but in any fight between you and Captain Kirk, they were always on his side. You two didn't care who won, that wasn't the point. And I understand it still isn't as far as you're concerned. But they resent Captain Young's overpowering superiority. You never did that to Jim, although you could have."

"The situation is entirely different," Spock quietly insisted.

"Is it? Jim knew you could beat him every time. Why didn't you?"

"Jim's skill level was increased by being rewarded for doing something right. Had I constantly thrown him new techniques without allowing him to master anything, he would have learned little besides how to fall."

"My point exactly."

"Doctor, it is not the same thing at all. I have told you before what I am trying to do, and it has relatively little to do with our respective skill levels. However, if you think it is seriously affecting crew morale, perhaps we should hold our training sessions in the free fall court."

"At this point, I don't think that would help. They'd know you were still doing it. They need to see you win, or stop trying, one of the two."

"I will not cease my attempts to conquer the blindness."

"Then I hope you win soon. I'm praying for it."

xxxx

The very next week, Spock suddenly got it. At the end of another completely one-sided workout, Spock flipped Young onto his back. Young spoke from the floor.

"Was that an accident, or am I getting careless?"

"I do not know, Captain."

Young rose, and resumed the attack. Spock downed him again. They extended the workout another hour, during which Young tried everything he knew. Spock was there, on time, to counter every move he made.

The next night, they did it again, with the same result. Crew members cheered. They ignored them. The next night, Young began to teach Spock how he moved silently. Spock learned it in the space of a week. Thereafter they worked out together two or three times a week.

xxxx

An incident aboard the _Enterprise_ diverted attention from Spock. They were ferrying scientists to a conference. Spock was keeping out of sight, because his facial appearance tended to bother the unaware. So Young was entertaining the scientists, with the help of his wives. One scientist whose name was Belsham insisted on demonstrating his latest invention.

"Captain, I insist. It is not a breach of security. You cannot possibly duplicate my work. There is no risk involved. But perhaps, not here in the lounge. If too many know, it would spoil my presentation at the conference. Do you have a more private setting?"

"Yes, but how much space do you require? My office, or one of the briefing rooms, perhaps?"

"Your office would be perfect. I don't need much room."

They left the reception quietly. Young told Gisa where he was going, but not why. Belsham followed Young to Deck 5, and entered his office peacefully. However, as soon as the door closed behind them, Belsham pulled out a phaser and stunned the Captain, who didn't even see it coming.

Belsham pulled out a small black box, fiddled with its controls, and ran it over Young's body like a scanner. Chuckling to himself wickedly, he pushed more buttons on the box. There appeared in front of him an exact replica of Captain Young. Belsham addressed it curtly.

"Back to the party on the Rec Deck."

The replica nodded acknowledgment and left. Belsham repeated the operation three more times, sending the second replica to the Bridge, the third to Engineering, and the fourth to Auxiliary Control. As the real Young began to stir, Belsham quietly left.

Spock, Uhura, and Sulu were on the Bridge when Young #2 arrived. Spock heard the footsteps, correctly identified them and vacated the center seat.

"Thank you, Spock," Young sat down. "Helm, new orders. Alter course to 278 Mark 3."

"Aye, sir." Sulu complied, then looked puzzled. The new course would take them to the Rigellian system. He glanced at Uhura, who shrugged her shoulders.

Spock felt something was wrong. "Captain, the scientists will miss their conference entirely, if we divert to the Rigellian system."

"Can't be helped. This is Priority One."

"May we know the nature of the emergency, sir?"

Spock seldom addressed Young as 'sir' anymore. Uhura noticed at once. Furthermore, to her knowledge, there had been no communication from Starfleet for several hours, and she was sure Spock knew that. Something was going on, and she didn't like the feel of it.

"There will be a briefing in one hour. Meanwhile, I'll be in my office. Spock, you have the conn."

"Yes, sir."

As soon as Young was off the Bridge, Spock returned to his station. Rapidly querying the computer, he addressed Sulu and Uhura as well.

"Mr. Sulu, on my authority, make a wide swing back to original heading. And override any attempts by Auxiliary Control to take over the Helm."

"Aye, sir." Sulu was grim.

"Uhura, confirm that there has been no signal from Starfleet for the last four hours or more."

"Yes, sir, I confirm. Checking now. It was 5.7 hours ago."

"Thank you." He returned to the center seat. "The computer informs me there are no less than _five_ Andorian/Morenan hybrids aboard this vessel."

He punched the all-call intercom.

"Intruder alert. Repeat, intruder alert. All hands, apprehend and hold anyone having the appearance of Captain Young. Repeat, capture any and all Captain Youngs aboard this vessel. Security Detail to Auxiliary Control, on the double."

Spock touched another button. "Bridge to Engineering."

"Scott here, sir."

"Mr. Scott, an intruder disguised as Captain Young is presently approaching Engineering."

"I see 'im comin'. Thanks, Spock."

"Bridge to Sickbay."

"McCoy here, Spock. What's going on?"

"One of the Captain Youngs is at your door. Please keep him there. The intruder is to be assumed armed and dangerous."

"Okay, Spock. I hope you know what you're doing. McCoy out."

"Young to Spock."

"Spock here, Captain. Where are you, sir?"

"On the Rec Deck, of course. Spock, I don't know what you're trying to pull, but it's not funny. I've got over a hundred people staring at me."

"Sir, I strongly advise you to stay where you are and wait for the Security detail. And I quite agree, this is not funny."

"Spock, don't make me threaten to court-martial you."

Before Spock could reply, he heard running feet, followed by a bit of scuffling. Uhura took this opportunity to advise Spock that Aux Control had apprehended Captain Young in the act of diverting power from the Bridge consoles.

"Young to Bridge."

"Captain, Spock here. Where are you calling from?"

"My office, Spock. I just woke up with a phaser headache. What's going on?"

"I do not yet know, sir. What precipitated the phaser attack, if I may ask?"

"I don't even know for sure that it was. It just feels like a phaser headache, and I woke up on the floor of my office. One of the scientists wanted to show me a demonstration, but he's not here now."

"Which one, sir?"

"Belsham. Excuse me, there's a security detail at my door. Come in, gentlemen. You'll get no protest from me." Turning back to the intercom, "Well, Spock, I believe regulations place you in command. What do we do now?"

"I regret the necessity, but I am placing all five of you in the brig for the moment."

"I understand, Spock. Let me know if I can help sort this out."

"Acknowledged. Spock out."

Spock instituted a ship-wide search for the scientist known as Belsham. He was found hiding in the vicinity of Aux Control. Interrogation revealed he was not in fact a scientist at all. He had obtained the black box from an unknown source and did not know how it did what it did. His motive had been to hijack the _Enterprise_ for personal profit. A petty criminal, and not very smart. He no longer had the black box, and wouldn't say what he had done with it. Further search did not turn up the black box. Spock convened a senior officers' briefing.

"We have two problems: a way to conclusively prove which of the five is the real Captain Young, and secondly, the dilemma of what to do with the other four. Since we do not know how they were created, we do not know to what extent they really are Captain Young."

"I've examined all five, and medically, physically, they're exactly alike," McCoy reported.

"Isna the one who was in his office, who reported a phaser headache, the real McCoy?" Scotty asked.

"Not necessarily," Spock replied.

"Medical exam showed all five suffering with mild phaser symptoms," McCoy explained.

Sulu protested, "Surely the one who came to the Bridge and tried to change our course is one of the imposters!"

"The one caught in Aux Control too," put in Chekov.

"Unfortunately, Security is not absolutely certain which Captain Young they found where." Spock's voice held no hint of accusation.

Uhura suggested, "Can't we just talk to them?"

"We can, and I have. Each is trying to portray himself as the real Captain Young."

"But does any of it ring false?" Uhura persisted. "Surely, you would know, Spock."

He ignored her for the moment. "Doctor, could you tell them apart?"

"No," McCoy admitted. "Not yet anyway."

Spock postulated, "Each of them may in fact believe that he is the real Captain Young."

"But their memories can't all be identical. Only one of them was on the Bridge," Sulu pointed out.

"I am reluctant to attempt the mind-meld. If the four are in some sense part of the real Captain Young, tampering with their minds could endanger the tenuous link between them, and prohibit any future rejoining."

"Not to mention what it might do to you, Spock." McCoy frowned.

"That risk is present with any mind-meld."

"Does the computer have a record of vhat occurred in the Captain's office?" Chekov asked.

"No. The recording function was inactive at the time," Spock revealed.

Sulu had another idea. "Could his wives tell which one was real?"

"I am hesitant to involve them. The sight of five identical husbands would surely distress them."

"They seem pretty competent and level-headed to me," was Sulu's opinion.

"Spock, the one who came to the Bridge, we knew for an imposter at once, because of the things he said and did." Uhura was thinking out loud.

"Such imposters have been revealed in the past because of flaws in their programming," Spock replied.

"Wouldn't these have been programmed with the element of obedience to Belsham?" Sulu suggested.

"Turn them all loose and see vhich ones obey him?" Chekov pursued the idea.

Scotty summarized, "Seems ta me we gotta find that black box an' undo th' damage somehow."


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

They continued to search for the black box. Meanwhile, Spock had them each visit the five Youngs, and guess which was the real Young. He even had the wives do likewise. The vote was not unanimous, not even close. Three favored the Young in cell #4, including Spock himself. Two guessed #2, and the other three each got one vote.

Reluctantly they staged a breakout, by cutting the power supply to the brig. As predicted, Belsham took the opportunity presented. He ordered each of the Youngs to accompany him. Apparently he didn't know which one wouldn't obey him.

Three Youngs followed Belsham to Aux Control, where they were again apprehended. The Youngs in Cells 2 and 4 refused to escape. Spock interrogated the three proven imposters. They each still maintained they were the real Young, and they didn't know why they had a compulsion to obey Belsham.

Spock then melded with Belsham, learned what the black box looked like, where he'd gotten it, and what he'd done with it. It was inside one of the consoles in Aux Control. Spock spent ten hours dismantling, studying, and analyzing the black box. He put it back together and took it to Dr. McCoy's office.

"Come in, Spock. Have you got that thing figured out yet?"

"I believe so, Doctor. I won't go into the physics, but I believe the process can be reversed. I wish to conduct an experiment before attempting to use it on the Captain."

"If you need a guinea pig, I'll volunteer."

"No, Doctor, I shall use myself as the object of the experiment. I merely require you as a witness, in case this does not work as I expect. I am going to create a duplicate of myself. As soon as that duplicate appears, you will spray his hand with an insoluble dye for identification. I expect that duplicate to obey me as his creator. If I am wrong, you will stun him with this phaser, even if you have to stun us both. Once the duplicate is created, I will reverse the process. Any questions?"

"What if he doesn't want you to reverse it?"

"That is part of the experiment. However, do not hesitate to use the phaser at the first sign of violence."

"All right. Give me a minute to get some red dye."

McCoy was back in moments. Spock pressed a few buttons on the black box, scanned himself, and pressed some more buttons. A second Spock appeared facing the first, nose to nose. They each took a step backward. McCoy stepped forward with the dye. Spock #2 held out his hand without a word. McCoy applied the dye and stepped back. The two Spocks stared at each other, or so it seemed to McCoy, even though they couldn't see.

"Fascinating," Spock #2 spoke first.

"Indeed," echoed Spock #1.

"Even though I know my existence began mere seconds ago, I have complete memories as though I were the original."

"My impression is that you are not part of me, nor I of you. Each is a complete and separate being."

"I concur. You would not be damaged were I to be destroyed by some means other than the reversal process."

"Will the Captain Youngs object to being reversed?"

"Probably. Any being objects to its own destruction."

"Why don't you?"

"Because you wouldn't. You created me for that express purpose. Do not be tempted to allow me to live. The potential of this technology is too dangerous. Evil forces much worse than Belsham would abuse its power."

"Very well. How can I know for certain which Captain Young is the original? Two of them refused to obey Belsham."

"The compulsion to obey the creator is strong, but if the command violates what the original would do, the compulsion can be overcome."

"So if I told you to kill Dr. McCoy, you could and would refuse?"

"I cannot be absolutely certain, but probably."

"What about mind-melding?"

"Do not meld with me. It would be like melding with yourself. Dangerous for your mind. As for the Captain Youngs, most of the risk is yours. The original has melded with you on numerous occasions. The integrity of the duplicates' minds is not an issue. I would eliminate the replicas by phaser anyway, rather than reversal. It is safer for the original."

"What danger is there for me to reverse you?"

"You will very likely retain my memories as well as your own. It would disturb Captain Young to remember himself as five beings rather than one."

"And what danger to me of melding with the duplicates?"

"Keeping five sets of identical memories separate and complete is probably beyond your capacity. There is some danger to the original of contact with co-mingled minds. As for you, spacing the encounters and erecting multiple shields may provide adequate protection."

"Thank you for your assistance."

"I am glad to be of service, nor am I surprised that you want to remember me."

Spock had raised the black box. McCoy wondered how Spock #2 had known. Spock pressed a button and Spock #2 immediately disappeared. Spock turned to McCoy.

"Thank you, Doctor. I am grateful the phaser was not required."

"What are you going to do now, Spock?"

"Meld with the Captain Youngs, of course."

"_Security to Commander Spock._"

Spock turned to the intercom. "Spock here."

_"Belsham and the three Captain Youngs have escaped, sir. Indications are they're heading to the Hangar Deck."_

"On my way. Spock out."

The speed with which Spock moved continued to amaze McCoy. No indication whatever that he could not see. They dashed for the lift.

Moments later, they were on the Hangar Deck. Belsham and the Youngs were boarding a shuttlecraft. No sign of Security as yet. Spock took on the four of them single-handedly. McCoy thought he was nuts, but watched with open mouth as Spock waded in. Belsham he downed with a nerve pinch. He threw one Young against the side of the shuttle, and grabbing the second off his back, threw him into the third.

While they disentangled themselves, the first Young launched a second attack. Spock delivered a chopping blow to the neck, and Young #1 was out cold before he hit the deck. As the other two Youngs resumed the attack, a security detail rushed in.

They could get no clear shots, so they held their fire. McCoy advised them to stay out of Spock's way.

"So far, he's winning. And he knows there's only enemies in the fight. You try to help, and he'll be hindered by not knowing which body is an enemy."

So they watched. Accustomed to seeing Spock and Young fight together, this was far different. Not just because it was two to one, but because nobody was trying to be nice. This was magnitudes more ferocious, and much less elegant.

Suddenly Young #3 broke off and dashed to Belsham. He picked up the body, slung it over his shoulder, and made for the shuttlecraft. But this move gave Security a clear shot. Young #3 collapsed in a heap as the stun charge hit him. Spock overwhelmed the remaining Young in a few minutes. The fight was over.

xxxx

A half hour later, Spock entered Briefing Room 3, where the two remaining Youngs were being held by a security force. He dismissed the guard and sat down between the two Youngs, who stared at each other in silence.

"Computer, please maintain an audio and visual recording of this meeting," Spock ordered.

"_Acknowledged. Recording as ordered._"

"Gentlemen, one of you is the original Captain Young, and the other is an exact duplicate. There are three other replicas, who as a result of attempting to obey Belsham, their creator, are in various states of disrepair."

"Spock, what happened?"

"Did they injure anyone?"

"The only other injured parties are Belsham, and two security guards, who will be sufficiently recovered shortly to receive a formal reprimand for allowing them to escape. However, the matter we must address is determining which of you is the original Captain Young. I believe there are certain minute differences in your memory of recent events that would provide the proof I need. I realize each of you thinks he is the original. Are you willing to be proved wrong?"

They pondered it in silence briefly. The Young on Spock's right spoke first.

"You're talking about a mind-meld."

"Yes, sir."

"Is it safe for you to do that?" The Young on Spock's right continued.

"I believe so."

"In other words, probably not, but you're going to do it anyway, if we agree?"

"Yes, sir."

"And when you find out which is the duplicate, you will kill him."

"I have not killed any of the three I know to be replicas."

"But you will. You have to."

"Yes."

"So agreeing to a mindmeld is a death sentence for one of us. But living in limbo like this is no good either. We need it settled. I vote do the mindmeld."

"Thank you," Spock turned. "And you, sir?"

"Spock, I've been pondering that question ever since I walked in here. I was sure I was the original, until I saw how exact a replica he is. I assume they all are. So what if I'm deceived, and I'm really _not_ the original? Am I willing to die if that's the case? Do I trust you to know for sure?" He took a deep breath. "Yes, Spock, I trust you. And I'm willing to die if I'm the duplicate. Do the meld, Spock."

Spock melded with the left Young first.

*This will only take a moment.*

Spock probed for the memories he needed.

*Thank you, Captain. I believed all along that you were the original, and I will not have conclusive proof until I compare his memories with yours. If he becomes violent, stay out of it.*

Spock withdrew. Aware that the second meld was the dangerous one, he erected protective shields. Taking three deep breaths, he established the second link.

*Thank you for being willing. I must compare your memories with his.*

Spock probed and encountered resistance. This Young had blocked his own memory of the visit to his office with Belsham.

*You are resisting me. I must know, you must know, what occurred in that office.*

*The fact that I'm resisting means I'm the duplicate.*

*It is probable.*

*But I remember - how can I know all this if I'm not the original?*

*The memories are transferred along with all the rest of what makes you Joshua Young. There is one memory in particular I call to mind. You gave me a certain status following a previous mental encounter.*

*Yes, I remember it. I owe you my life.*

*I, Spock, ask this of you, Joshua Young, not because I need it, but because you do. Show me what occurred in your office.*

Young did. Spock saw him enter the office in front of Belsham. He blacked out. Then as if there was a glitch in the program, suddenly he was standing there, looking at Belsham, who was holding a black box. On hearing Belsham's instructions, he went back to the party.

*So I'm the duplicate.*

*Yes, you are. I'm sorry.*

*Why didn't I obey Belsham then, when he wanted to escape?*

*It was not something the original would have done.*

*Why did you say I needed to know? You're the one who needed the proof.*

*I could have forced my way in. It was better for you to let me in.*

*What difference would it make? You're just going to kill me anyway.*

*I treat all sentient beings with respect. I regret that I cannot allow you to live. Your existence would advertise the existence of this technology. It cannot be allowed to get into the hands of those who would use it for evil.*

*I suppose I should rant and rave, and violently object to your killing me.*

*My duplicate did not.*

*What do you mean?*

*I have the black box. I created a duplicate of myself for the purpose of testing the reversal function. I retain the memories of my duplicate. If the original agrees, I will reverse you also, and he will retain your memories.*

*Well, you can ask, but don't pressure him. It doesn't make that much difference to me.*

*Very well.*

Spock withdrew and explained to Captain Young what he had in mind. The Captain readily agreed and the deed was soon done. Young's eyes widened as he took in all the extra memories.

"What about the other three, Spock?"

"I do not recommend this with them, for two reasons. Your mind can cope with one extra set of memories, but quite possibly not with four extra. Also, their behavior suggests they are much more closely tied to Belsham than this one was. I recommend they be destroyed with phaser fire, without further conversation with them.

"All right, Spock. Let's get it over with."

Young insisted on doing the deed himself, saying it wasn't fair to make anyone else do it. McCoy then insisted on a complete physical before declaring Young fit to command. Afterwards, Young, Spock, and McCoy gathered in the doctor's office.

"Well, Captain, I don't find anything physically wrong with you. So I'm declaring you fit. But if you find those dual memories disturbing, come talk to me. Don't try to ignore the problem."

"Understood, Doctor. I think I'm okay with it. But I have a question for Spock."

"Indeed?"

"You said you thought you knew which was the original. How did you know?"

"Difficult to explain, Captain, and it was not objectively supportable evidence. Due to our frequent mind-melds, I sense the presence of your mind. The echoes of their minds were subtly different from yours."

"Is that how you managed to fight all three of them?" McCoy asked.

"Yes, Doctor, I sensed their minds as well as their bodies."

McCoy told Young what he had seen Spock do on the Hangar Deck.

"I'm impressed. Spock, you came out of that fight unscathed?"

"I did require a change of uniform."

"I guess all the practice in the gym paid off then."

"Yes, Captain, I thank you."

"You're welcome, Spock."

xxxx

The day came when Konti received word that the new mindsifter was ready. They had a show scheduled for that night, so the appointment with the mindsifter was put off until the next morning.

Just before the show, Kirk prayed for Konti, who was quite distracted. The Lord gave them all grace, and the show was completed without problems. The four of them held a late-night meeting at Konti's house.

Kirk unofficially chaired the meeting. No one thought it unusual. "The show went well. Thanks especially to Konti, who managed to hold it together in spite of how upset he is. Now we're all tired, so let's cover the essentials as quickly as possible. The purpose of this meeting is to discuss what we're going to do after the mindsifter tomorrow.

"As I see it, there are three, maybe four, possible outcomes. I may be back to square one, having to relearn absolutely everything. If so, it'll take me a few weeks. A second possibility is that God will miraculously heal me again. If that happens, we need not make any changes. Of course, it's possible that the machine will malfunction and kill me on the spot."

Konti frowned at that idea.

"A fourth possibility is that the machine will only take my recent memories. If the machine does what Korn said it would, then by the time they get back to my teen years, they'll know the machine has failed once again to retrieve what isn't there to be taken. If they take the rest of it, it'll just be for spite, 'cause they already have two tapes of all my early memories.

"Bottom line is we may be dealing with a 16-year-old mind. If so, I will not know the Klingon language, though I may recognize that you are Klingons. I will not have an active relationship with Jesus Christ, and I won't know that you aren't enemies." Kirk gazed at each of them before continuing.

"Your task will be difficult: to convince me to trust you in spite of the circumstances. The only advice I can give you is to be completely and totally honest. But know this: if you are not absolutely certain that I trust you, you must kill me."

Konti opened his mouth to protest, but Kirk didn't give him a chance. "If you accept outward compliance as good enough, it will blow up in your faces. Because if I do not trust you, I will be plotting against you. And do not expect a 16-year-old to accept the fact that escape is impossible. Any questions?"

"Given your ability to act, how am I supposed to be certain you trust me?" Konti asked.

"Ask the Lord for discernment."

"What about the lab sessions?" put in Koh.

"Korn may again be pressuring you to break me. In which case, it should be eminently easier. I assure you, I did not know at age 16 what I know now about pain."

"That may be, but how am I supposed to get you to trust me while I'm subjecting you to unbearable agony?" Koh's reaction was more clinical than Konti's, but equally uncertain of success.

"Complete and total honesty. If I can't separate the person from the pain, then you can't trust me. But I've just thought of another problem. How fluent are any of you in Standard?"

Konti answered for them all. "I'm good enough to get by, Koh has the basics, and Kezak understands some, but doesn't speak it at all."

"Could be better, but we'll manage. A crash course in Klingon would be among the first priorities. Kezak, how many shows are already booked, and how soon is the next one?"

"I have six definite bookings, requests for ten more, and they're starting to pester me about bringing it here to the capital. The next show is scheduled for the day after tomorrow."

"Not much lead time. I hope you don't have to cancel. It'll be up to Konti to decide if we can pull it off or not. Anything else we need to talk about?" Silence. "Then before you go, let me say this. If I die tomorrow, do not grieve. It's been great fun, and it lasted a lot longer than I expected it to. Remember this: the Lord Jesus Christ loves you. He wants to know you, and He wants you to know Him, even as I have sought to know, and be known."

After Koh and Kezak had gone, Kirk decided to write himself a letter. He pondered for almost an hour as to what he could say that would convince his 16-year-old self to trust Konti. Then he wrote quickly, and gave the completed document to Konti, with instructions to give it to him, if he was dealing with a teenage mind.

Kirk rose early the next morning and spent some time in prayer. When it was time to go, both Kirk and Konti were operating in the peace of the Lord. No final words were needed. Kirk knew Konti would do what the Lord told him to.

In due time they arrived at Headquarters, got the same stubborn guard as before, secured permission from Korn for Kirk to enter unrestrained, and calmly walked down to the mindsifter room. Korn was waiting for them. He could see that Kirk was curious rather than apprehensive.

"This will be lots worse than the last two times. The machine will probe as long as necessary until you give up those Federation secrets."

"What will you do when the machine can't find any?"

"We will find them if it takes all day!"

Kirk turned to Konti.

"Talk to Kezak about how to do the show without having to tell me much of anything. By the time I get out of here, we may have only a few hours."

Korn was astonished. "You expect to do Kezak's show after this?!"

"If you leave me with a teenager's mind, yes. Konti will explain it to me."

"Even if you believe him, you're not likely to be in any shape to go anywhere."

"We'll see. And Konti, don't hang around here watching all day. Get Korn to call you when I'm done."

Konti stayed until they turned the machine on. Kirk remained relaxed and peaceful. Konti left, confident that there would be nothing more to see. He sought out Kezak, and they talked in the park for two hours. Kezak thought it doable, and they discussed what Konti would have to do differently. They went to the club for an early lunch, and were joined by Koh.

"I expected you to be glued to the mindsifter all day," Koh retorted.

"No. There's nothing to see. Korn will call me when he's done."

"There wasn't anything to see the last two times either. Have you finally become callous?"

"No, just confident and peaceful."

Koh looked at him oddly, but said nothing more. Konti explained what they'd been discussing. Koh reported that he'd just come from the mindsifter.

"Kirk's the only peaceful one in there. Everybody else is tense, angry, frustrated, or all of the above. Still look pretty determined though. Nowhere near giving up yet."

"Kirk thinks it'll go on into tomorrow."

"It just might. Wonder how much trauma he'll be in when they finally let him out of there. Assuming they do."

"Kirk thinks he'll be fine."

"He always thinks that. What's amazing is how many times he's right."

xxxx

Korn returned to the mindsifter after a late lunch. Still no positive news to report. He studied Kirk, who looked as if he was asleep.

"Is he conscious?" he asked the medic.

"Yes, though how he can stand it, I don't know."

"Has anybody talked to him?"

"No, sir."

"Kirk, can you hear me?"

"What?" Kirk's reply was in Standard.

Korn switched to Standard.

"Kirk, if you're faking it, you're going to be sorry."

"Faking what?"

"Kirk, I will have those Federation secrets. You can't hold out on me forever."

"What secrets?"

Korn snorted in disgust and turned away. Several hours later, he tried again, with no more success. Kirk was becoming obnoxious, instead of the respectful submissiveness Korn had become used to. He asked Koh about it when he stopped in.

"Just means he's tired, bored, and impatient. Also, you're getting a teen's responses. Wouldn't be surprised if he thinks the whole thing's a nightmare."

"How long before he's exhausted?"

"In that position, you can't exhaust him. Dehydration will set in long before that, and his mind will just shut down. If you put in IV's to keep him hydrated, he could sit there for a week or more without getting exhausted."

"What about mentally exhausted?"

"I've yet to find anything that will exhaust him mentally, and I've tried for a long time. Even on the point of physical exhaustion, his mind is still going strong. I'm sorry that's an unsatisfactory answer, but it's the truth."

Kirk got more sleep that night than Korn did. Even the next morning, Korn had to wake Kirk up in order to talk to him. And his responses were still flippantly obnoxious.

"Whoever you are, go away and leave me alone. This nightmare is going on too long. Besides it's boring. My head hurts. Go away." And more of the same.

Yet he never struggled against it, never screamed. Even his voice remained calm, in spite of the obnoxious content.

At noon, Korn gave up. The machine was obviously not working. The longer he left Kirk in it, the more of a fool he looked, as Kirk continued to defy its power over him. He called Konti, and when he and Koh arrived, gave the order to turn off the machine.


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Kirk felt as though he were waking from a very long, waking nightmare. Something about a machine that took his memories, and someone who kept asking for secrets he didn't have. As he felt the pain of screws being removed from his head, it occurred to him that the nightmare might be reality, but he dismissed it as unlikely. Maybe he had broken his neck and was coming out of surgery.

He opened his eyes, but could see nothing but a bright light. He closed them again. Now they were removing what felt like wires from his head, and some strip of something across his forehead. He'd never had an EEG. Maybe there was something wrong with his brain. But he had had general anesthesia, and this did not feel like he'd felt coming out of that. Now they were removing the straps that had kept him immobilized. And somebody was talking again. But it was not the voice that had asked for the secrets.

"Kirk, can you hear me?"

Kirk heard his name, but the rest sounded like gibberish.

"What?"

"Oh, sorry." Konti switched to Standard. "I forgot. Can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Can you stand up?"

"Don't know."

Kirk proceeded to climb out of the chair and stand, although somewhat shakily. Just as well that he kept a hand on the chair, because he was truly shocked at the sight of the two creatures facing him. This was either a very realistic nightmare, or he was in fact in very deep trouble. The beings facing him were definitely not human, and unless he was much mistaken, they were Klingons, arch-enemies of the Federation. The one on the right spoke again.

"Can you walk as far as that bench by the wall?"

Kirk did not reply, but began walking. _Well, that explained the foreign accent,_ he thought. _Foreign is an understatement. If these are really Klingons, then maybe the nightmare is reality. Safer to assume so, at least for now._ He sat down and looked, not at the Klingons on either side of him, but at the machine from which he had come.

If that thing had taken his memory, then why did he still know who he was? Or even remember what had happened? Of one thing he was certain: they had not gotten what they were after. _Be thankful for small favors. Make that big ones._ He sighed. _What now? Pick up the pieces and go on._ He looked at the Klingon who spoke Standard.

"Much needs to be explained, but elsewhere. Are you well enough to walk out of here?" the Klingon asked.

Kirk was puzzled. "You are permitted to take me somewhere?"

"Yes. To my home."

"Do I have a choice?"

Kirk looked around and located the exits, as well as the other Klingons in the room. Only one appeared to be paying them any attention. But as soon as he made a wrong move, there would be six burly Klingons all over him. The odds were too high.

"I could carry you, if you were unconscious," the Klingon offered. "In fact, it would be safer that way. Fewer questions."

"Well, what are you waiting for? If you have permission to take me out of here, surely you also have permission to knock me out."

The Klingon hesitated, and Kirk saw in his eyes that the guy didn't want to hit him. This Klingon was not behaving the way he expected Klingons to behave. Well, that wasn't necessarily bad.

"You could fake it."

"That gentleman over there who is watching us will not be fooled by a fake."

"Doesn't matter. We're only trying to fool the guards and, how do you say, those who talk when they shouldn't?"

"Gossipers." Kirk grinned briefly. To Konti, a wonderful sight.

"So, are you willing?"

"What happens if I'm not? What if I walk over to that gentleman and tell him that you are trying to help me escape?"

The Klingon sighed. "First of all, he will not believe you. Secondly, he would take that action as proof that I cannot control you. It would provide him with an excuse to take you away from me. He is still very angry with you for thwarting him one more time. If you are under his control, your life expectancy becomes much shorter than it already is. In short, I would not recommend that course of action."

"He is the one who wants the secrets, then."

"You remember?"

"Only that he didn't get them."

Kirk looked into the Klingon's eyes for a moment. He could read no deceit there, but that didn't mean there wasn't any. Oh well, it appeared to be the only game in town.

"All right. I'll play your game."

And without another word, Kirk simply collapsed. Konti picked him up, swung him over his shoulder, and carried him out to the flitter, with Koh following. Silence all the way home. Konti carried Kirk into the house, this time setting him down on his feet.

"Coast is clear. We're home. You can open your eyes."

Kirk looked around and the first thing he saw was a third Klingon. They exchanged a few words, but Kirk didn't understand any of it. Who would have thought he should take Klingon as a foreign language?! French was bad enough!

He had thought to lower the odds, but three to one was still pretty high. Besides he needed more information. If they were smart, they wouldn't give it to him. They had taken seats, and were gesturing for him to sit on the floor. He noted the other two doorways, and wondered what lay beyond. In any event, it was unlikely he could reach the door they had entered by, before being tackled by one, if not all three Klingons.

"My name is Konti. This is Koh, and this is Kezak. I am the spokesman, because my command of your language is better than theirs. They will understand much of what I say, and none of this is news to them, so I will not need to repeat myself in Klingon. If at any time, you do not understand, because I have misused the language, please interrupt. I am by no means fluent in Standard."

"You're doing very well. I'm impressed."

"Sorry to interrupt, Konti, but Kirk needs to eat. Preferably non-stop for the next four hours."

"Of course. My apologies. See to it, if you would." To Kirk, "Koh will get you some food. You have had nothing in over 24 hours. Please eat while I talk."

Koh set a tall glass of liquid in front of Kirk. He picked it up. It smelled like fruit juice of some kind. He had no way of knowing if it was poisoned or drugged. He would have to risk it. He could not continue to function without sustenance. He drank the juice. Then Koh put a plate of food before him, with instructions to "Eat slowly."

It looked and smelled for all the world like a juicy steak. With it were a baked potato, dripping with butter, and an odd-looking vegetable, smothered in a sauce of some kind. Kirk ate, and while he ate, Konti talked. The tale he wove was absolutely fantastic, but so absurd as to be almost believable. And the things Konti said he had done - well, he hoped some day to have the courage and stamina to endure like that, but the attitude of disregard for self-preservation was ridiculous. Some of the things Konti said he had done were just plain stupid. So either they were lying to him, or there was something about this he just didn't understand. Konti finished the tale about the same time Kirk finished eating. He should know in about twenty minutes whether there was something in the food.

"Any questions? Did you understand what I said?"

"I understood your words very well. I'm still trying to sort out the content. Meanwhile, yes, I have a few questions. Where am I? If that machine took my memory, why do I still know who I am? Why didn't they get the secrets? Why am I still alive? Why don't you behave the way I expect? Why would I be so stupid as to _tell_ Koh how to break me? That'll do for starters. And I don't suppose you have any proof that what you've told me is the truth?"

Kirk didn't expect answers. He'd asked just to gauge the reaction. But Konti took his questions seriously. Whether the answers were truthful was another matter.

"You are currently in my home. The building we just came from is military Headquarters. Both buildings are located in our capital city on the Klingon home world. Do you desire more detail?"

"You would give it to me?"

"With the exception of classified military secrets, I would tell you anything I know. You have only to ask."

Kirk didn't believe him, but decided not to pursue it. "I'll keep that in mind."

"As to why you know your identity, the machine is sufficiently selective that it did not remove any memories prior to your teen years. As to why they did not get the information they seek, you have said the information was removed from your mind by a friend named Spock. They do not believe you. They think you have some means to block their access."

Kirk had no mental or emotional response to the name 'Spock' and seriously doubted he could possibly have the ability to resist that machine. But he said nothing.

Konti went on. "I do not understand the nature of your next question. Can you explain why you might not be still alive. Do you think the machine was supposed to kill you?"

"No, but if they cannot get the information they seek, what further purpose is there in keeping me alive?"

"I do not believe they have given up. Also, Korn knows I don't want to kill you. And yes, the duty will be mine, because I own you."

"Why don't you want to kill me?" Kirk was genuinely puzzled.

"Because you are my friend. And that brings me to your next question. I do not behave as you expect, because you don't. You have consistently refused to think of me as an enemy. In spite of your position here, you treat me as an equal. You build no defensive walls to protect yourself. I assure you, I am quite capable of behaving like a typical Klingon. But when we are alone, it is unnecessary." He smiled without showing his teeth.

"Koh may have a different perspective on the stupidity of telling him how to break you, but this is what I see: you did it in order to become his friend. In my experience, there is no limit to what you will endure for the sake of a friend. Koh, do you have anything to add?"

"At first, it was a joke, I think. Then, the working together made a big difference in the lab. But also, I think you truly wanted to know what it would take to break you, what it would be like, and whether you could pick up the pieces afterwards."

"And did you find it?" Typically, Kirk was curious, rather than appalled.

"Yes, and no. We finally found a set of variables that produced a reaction you could not control. But when it was over, you promptly set about erasing its effects on you. When we tried it again about a week later, you did not lose control, nor have you since then."

"As to your last question, no, I can't prove it is the truth. But you anticipated this problem and wrote yourself a letter."

Konti rose, retrieved the letter from his desk, and handed it to Kirk.

"I hope it will help."

The letter was written with ink on real paper. No attempt had been made to seal it. Kirk opened it. The handwriting looked like his, but he supposed that could be faked. The question was, why would they bother? What purpose could they have that would require that he trust them? His attention was caught by the words on the page, and he began to read.

I will not try to convince you this letter is genuine, nor will I remind  
>you of some childhood secret no one knows. Konti will have told<br>you they have all your early memories from two previous sessions  
>with the mindsifter. But I know how you think. That has not<br>changed in 30+ years. Allow me to give you my perspective on  
>this bizarre situation.<p>

Escape is undoubtedly your first thought. I will not tell you it's  
>impossible. The fact is, I haven't tried. But consider this: what<br>would you gain by escaping? You have no military secrets, no  
>duty obligation to return to the Federation. They undoubtedly think<br>you are dead. If by some miracle, you managed to reach  
>Federation space, what would you do when you got there? You<br>would be news for a few weeks. After that, you would be retired to  
>some safe, boring, planet-bound existence.<p>

If you decide that escape is not worth the trouble, you have two  
>options. You could adopt the name, rank, and serial number<br>mentality. But if you behave like a prisoner, they will be forced to  
>treat you like one. Being locked in a cell day and night with<br>nothing to do is boring. I assure you that what I have been doing  
>these last months, while full of unpleasantness, has been anything<br>but boring.

Here's the challenge: total cooperation, absolute trust, complete  
>transparency. If you choose this option, you will not allow that<br>trust to be shaken by anything Konti does to you, or permits to be  
>done to you. Nor will you allow it to be eroded by the knowledge<br>that sooner or later, Konti will be forced to kill you. Avoidance of  
>pain is no part of the program. Indeed your existence will be full of<br>pain. And death is a certainty, only when and how remain in  
>question. Meanwhile, look for the humor. A little laughter goes a<br>long way.

These are your only options - there is no middle ground. Either  
>trust, or do not trust. Partial trust equals not trust. Also you<br>cannot pretend to trust, until an opportunity to escape presents  
>itself. Konti will know if your trust is not real. Jesus will tell him.<p>

I hesitate to even bring this up, because I know you think He's  
>irrelevant. But I have had an encounter with Jesus that proves to<br>me that He's real, He's more powerful than anything or anyone  
>else, and He's made that power available to you now, in your<br>present situation. I belong to Jesus; that means, you do too,  
>whether you remember it or not. Call on Him for what you need;<br>He's here for you.

The last thing I want to share with you is my mission, my reason  
>for being here. I did not choose these circumstances, but God has<br>a purpose for me. He has preserved my life, and twice restored  
>my mind and its memories. His purpose is this: that I be a friend<br>to those He sends me, thereby showing by my life that God loves  
>them and wants to know them. You do not have to buy into this<br>purpose, but knowing it may help you understand why I have done  
>some of the things I've done.<p>

Kirk read the letter twice. 'Be a friend.' 'Love your enemies, and pray for those that persecute you.' 'Perfect love casts out fear.' ie, trusts perfectly. The Scripture verses came unbidden. Well, the idea certainly was Biblical. But 'total cooperation, absolute trust, complete transparency'? That was crazy! Kirk doubted his ability, never mind his willingness. But was that what perfect love meant? If there was no fear, why not? Are you kidding!? Not to be afraid in this living nightmare was the height of foolishness.

But Kirk could not ignore the challenge. Escape would be equally challenging, probably fatal, and if not, the end result would be boring. Adopting the prisoner mentality was undoubtedly the easiest thing to do, but Kirk had never chosen what was easy, especially if it was boring. He looked up at Konti.

"Have you read this?"

"No. It was not mine to read."

Kirk handed him the letter. "Please, read it."

Konti did, then handed it back.

"Would you concur that this is an accurate assessment of the situation?"

"Yes."

Kirk thought for a moment longer as he gazed into Konti's eyes, again looking for deceit. If the letter was a fake, it was a very good one. What it said clarified his thinking, rather than try to persuade him unduly. Pain and death went with all options, so he dismissed that from consideration. Did he really have no obligation to escape? A 16-year-old mind inside a 50-year-old body would be useless to the Federation. The letter was right about that.

His dream to make it to the stars had apparently come true. Though this was not the end he had envisioned. He could accept it with dignity, or fight it tooth and nail. Instinct told him it would take more courage to accept it than to fight it. Konti interrupted his musings.

"Are you going to stare at me all afternoon? You don't usually take this long to make a decision. Can I help you?"

"No, you can't. Most teenagers are very insecure. Decisions are difficult. But I've made mine. I will cooperate with you to the best of my ability. I don't know whether I can trust you or not, and I do not know what transparency is. But I must warn you: if you present me with a golden opportunity to escape, I can't promise I won't take it."

"You're being transparent right now. Transparency is no secrets, not hiding anything from me. It's telling what you think and feel without editing. I have every confidence in your ability to cooperate. But trust is a two-way street. I must be able to trust you. Before you wrote that letter, you told me that if I was not absolutely certain that you trusted me, I must kill you, because if I did not, it would blow up in my face."

"You better kill me now then."

Kirk just sat there, waiting for it. Konti stared at him, then shook his head.

"No. I would rather you killed me, than for me to kill you."

"You will have to eventually, so why not do it now, and get it over with?"

"No. I will put it off as long as I can."

"What about these others?" He gestured at Koh and Kezak. "Do you wish to be responsible for their deaths too? Or, you think I can escape without killing any of you?"

"If you escape, we all die, even if you do not personally kill us. I will ask them."

He turned to Kezak and spoke in Klingon. Kezak responded. Then Konti turned to Koh and got a response from him too. Then he turned back to Kirk.

"They are likewise willing to risk it. We will not kill you until we must. And that time is not now."

"Why?" Kirk was truly puzzled.

Koh jumped in before Konti could respond.

"Kirk, you have been with us for six months. You have endured much at our hands, some of it engineered by you. Not once have you made an aggressive move, or tried to escape, and you have had many opportunities. At first, we admired your ability to endure, and we still do. But it's more than that. We like you because of the atmosphere you create. There's just something about who you are."

"Who I was. I'm a different person now."

"I don't think so. Everything I've seen since they unhooked you from that machine has been typical Kirk. You stood up without hesitation, even though you didn't know if you could. Your first sight of us was a shock, but the only reaction was a brief widening of the eyes. No hysterics, no fear. When Konti suggested you fake unconsciousness, there was no question of your ability to do so, merely whether it would achieve the desired result. Even now, you're calmly sitting here discussing whether Konti should kill you, with no apparent apprehension concerning the outcome."

While Koh talked to Kirk, Konti was talking to the Lord.

_He said that I should ask You, Lord. Does he trust me? Surely You don't want me to kill him!_

_ No, he doesn't trust you. He would like to, but he knows that he doesn't. And he can't understand why you refuse to kill him, even after he's told you to._

_ What shall I do, Lord?_

_ He feels obligated, because you trust him, so he will try to trust you. Do not coddle him or make excuses for him. Require of him everything you would have expected before. When he discovers that he cannot do it, he will cry out to me. And Koh will hear._

Kirk looked at the three of them. "I don't understand you, but if you won't kill me, I guess I'll have to try to trust you. So what now?"

Konti explained in some detail about Kezak's shows and exactly what would be required of Kirk. Kezak began to take an active part in the conversation, which necessitated Konti acting as interpreter. Kirk vowed to himself to learn Klingon ASAP.

Kezak decided Kirk could memorize the twenty minute drama during the two hour flitter ride. He merely asked Kirk to demonstrate his ability to act like a slave. Kirk had it down pat with only two pointers from Kezak. The obstacle course wasn't a problem except for the second attempt at the tightrope walk. Kezak decided it was better that he fall twice, than demonstrate the ease with which he could walk the rope. Kirk assured him there was no way it would look easy.

"Don't be too sure. Remember, your body knows how to do this. You have to make sure it looks as if you don't. You're not afraid of the water, are you?"

"No problem there. I can make quite a scene, but it will be faked. Did I understand correctly that Konti's going to pull me out by wrapping the whip around my neck? Am I supposed to act like he's choking me, or drowning me, or am I supposed to ignore the fact that I can't breathe?"

"Usually you're too hysterical at that point to really know what's going on. A choked off scream would be fine, but the whole thing happens so fast, we haven't really had to worry about audience perception of that detail."

Kirk's eyes widened in surprise at the explanation of the electrified grid maze. Konti grinned at him, but did not discuss the trust level required to do this. Kezak's biggest concern was the last act - the public beating - primarily because Kirk would not be able to understand any instructions. Konti could not give them in Standard. So they worked out a series of signals that hopefully would cover all possible messages Kirk would need.

Kirk had no idea whether he could pull off the acting required for the beating. Kezak refused to mess up Kirk's back with any preliminary lashes.

But he wasn't worried. "Once an actor, always an actor. When was the last time you fell to the ground pretending to be mortally wounded?"

Kirk chuckled. "Not all that long ago."

"You see my point. The only difference is, you really will be in agony. But we have seen you separate the performance from the reality time after time. I think the skill will be there. You need not worry."

"Any questions?" Konti asked.

"Yes. I assumed the lack of clothes was to discourage escape. Surely you don't expect me to get up in front of a crowd of people with absolutely nothing on?! I may have a 50-year-old body, but I have a 16-year-old's sense of modesty."

"The lack of clothes is not because you are a prisoner, but because you are a slave. In our society, no male slave wears anything but the collar. I cannot permit you to wear clothes, or even a loin cloth. No one in the audience will be embarrassed."

"In other words, get over it. Okay, I'll try."


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

The show was a success. After the first few moments, Kirk was too busy to think about his nakedness. He was pretty sure he had made no major blunders during the dramatization. The obstacle course had been fun, in spite of the nerve-racking sense of isolation from not being able to see or hear. Even the tightrope walk had come off well.

The concentration required for the grid maze wasn't all that difficult; nor was carrying Konti all that physically taxing. What was hard was forcing himself to trust Konti's directions. But his thinking had already been changed to the extent that he never considered dumping Konti off his back.

The beating was interesting. When Konti removed the head device, Kirk's senses were assaulted by sight and sound. Quite a shock, but he caught Konti's signal that meant, hands on head, no sound and no motion. _Just my luck,_ he thought, _to pull the most difficult on the first try._ Silence he could probably manage; he'd never been a screamer. But holding still was another matter. Especially since it wasn't supposed to be quite perfect, just look as though he could almost do it, but not quite.

The feel of the lash surprised him. What Konti had just been doing had finesse. This was brute force. Sledge hammer rather than needle. His instinct was to draw into himself to shut out the pain. What was it Kezak had said? Separate the performance from the reality. He began to concentrate on giving a good performance, and managed to more or less ignore the pain. But he had never felt so physically assaulted before.

He lay on the floor of the flitter, not talking or moving for the two hour trip back to Konti's home. They occasionally asked how he was, but mostly the conversation was in Klingon. By the time they arrived, Kirk discovered his back was so stiff, he could hardly move, and didn't want to. But they couldn't leave him in the flitter, and if they did, by morning, it would undoubtedly be worse. So he forced himself to stand and walk into the house. The three of them took the same chairs they had earlier. He said he would prefer to stand.

"That bad, is it? It was a bit more brutal than usual. Three of those guys really had it in for you. And 60 lashes is the most we ever permit. Takes too long to recover from any more than that. So if it's any consolation, it's not likely to get any worse. So, talk to me. What are you thinking?" Konti asked.

"I'd like to hear Kezak's opinion of the show."

Konti translated. "Superb! Not one wrong move! I would never have known you'd lost your memory. A couple of things you actually did better than usual. That bit of confusion when Konti first put the head device on you was a very nice touch. And the grid maze was brilliant. Ever so much more suspense. We could see your hesitation at every step, as if you're uncertain whether you're about to die. It was great!"

"You think I faked it?! I bet Konti knows I was scared stiff."

"Doesn't matter. Do it that way again next time," Kezak insisted.

"How soon is the next time?"

"Day after tomorrow."

"Okay. What do we do between now and then?" Kirk asked.

Konti answered, "First we get you to talk. You managed total cooperation. Now I want some transparency. How did you feel during the show? How do you feel now? Where's the trust level?"

"I enjoyed most of it. The beating was a shock, and I'm still recovering. Trust? Maybe marginally higher than before. After all, everything happened exactly as you said it would."

"So the beating did not lower the trust level?"

Kirk considered that. "No, I don't think so."

"What about your escape plans?"

"I haven't thought about it since I read that letter," Kirk admitted sheepishly.

"Think about it now, then. If you knew there was nothing and no one to prevent you from walking out that door and never coming back, would you go?"

Kirk grinned briefly. "The golden opportunity, as it were?"

"Let me put it more plainly. Very shortly, Koh and Kezak will leave. Soon thereafter, I will go to bed. The door will not be locked, nor will you be restrained in any way. Will you kill me as I sleep? Will you still be here in the morning?"

"You would sleep in the presence of an unrestrained enemy?!"

"You are not my enemy."

"I'm not? If I were you, I would lock me up. I told you I can't be trusted."

"Nevertheless, I do, and I will," Konti stubbornly declared.

Koh rose to depart.

"Don't forget to feed him. I'll be here in the morning."

Kezak followed Koh out the door. Konti fed him another meal, showed him the bathroom, and went to bed, with an admonition not to stay up all night.

Kirk did some stretching exercises and took a shower. He still felt decidedly unwell. He'd read somewhere that the first twelve hours were the worst. So sometime tomorrow, he should start feeling better, he hoped. He paced up and down the main room, as he considered his situation.

Should he wait until tomorrow night to escape? Would he be given another such opportunity as this? Did he even intend to escape at all? Why did Konti trust him? Kirk went into the bedroom and stared at Konti's sleeping form. How could he?! And it wasn't that he was stupid. He chose to ignore what he knew to be common sense, and act as if Kirk could be trusted. Why did he do that? And how?

Total cooperation, absolute trust, complete transparency. What a challenge! So far, he'd managed the cooperation, and some of the transparency. But trust? No way! How could he trust Konti – he was a Klingon. The only way he might come to trust Konti, or any of them, was if he could manage to forget they were Klingons. And he didn't see that happening in the foreseeable future.

Suddenly he realized he was very tired. He lay down in a corner of the bedroom, and was fast asleep in minutes, still having made no decision regarding escape. Nor did he ponder the fact that he was sleeping in the same room with a Klingon.

xxxx

Konti woke to find Kirk asleep in the same corner he had twice chosen before. He smiled. Moving quietly so as not to wake Kirk, Konti went to take a shower. When he returned, Kirk was awake, sitting up, and obviously waiting for him.

"Good morning. I hope you slept well. How is the back this morning?"

"Better, thank you."

"Breakfast in five minutes."

They ate in silence. Konti was comfortable; Kirk was not. All the questions of the night before were still unanswered. After breakfast, Konti announced the activities of the day.

"In just over two hours, we have company coming for the monthly branding ceremony. I'll come back to that in just a moment. After the ceremony, we have the rest of the day to ourselves. I have obtained some Klingon language tapes. I suggest you spend perhaps eight hours working on the language. Then a meal and a nap. This evening, if you've no objection, I would like some help on the translation work I'm doing. At midnight you are due in Koh's lab. Any questions before I explain the branding?"

"Several. You sound as if I have a choice about how I wish to spend the day."

"Yes. I am open to input from you on the subject. Do you have other concerns more pressing than the language?"

"No. I have no objections to your plans. I just can't believe you would let me decide. Another thing: I recall you said the rules included no food or drink, no sleep, and no privacy. Yet you have given me all of those things. Why?" Kirk dared to demand an explanation.

"The rules have been relaxed since we started doing the shows. Koh tells me from day to day whether I can feed you. And if you spend the night here instead of at the lab, it's assumed you will sleep."

"All right. Last question: will you take me to the lab, or do I have to walk, deciding all the way whether to escape or not?"

"You walk."

Kirk stared for a moment. "Did I envision this situation when I set this up?"

"I don't think so, but knowing about this would not have changed your mind. You would have just laughed, and suggested everybody place bets on what you would do."

"You're betting your life," Kirk retorted.

"So is Koh, and with considerably less confidence than I have. I am a Christian. Koh is not, yet."

"Are you saying, it's because you're a Christian that you can trust me?"

"Yes. I know what the Lord told me to do."

"What's that?"

Konti sat back in the chair and decided it wouldn't hurt anything to tell him. "Require of you everything I would have expected before. That means I behave as if you are completely trustworthy, even though you keep telling me you're not. God will take care of the consequences."

"Well, for your sake, I hope you're right, but I still can't promise it."

"You don't have to. I'm not worried."

Konti explained the branding ceremony in detail. Kirk did not seem apprehensive until he mentioned that Korn would be witnessing, as well as Koh.

"Who is Korn?"

"The one who wants the secrets."

"I'm supposed to trust him too?!" Kirk objected.

"You will accord him respect, but you do not have to trust him. It would be a nice touch for you to put on the slave performance, but he will not be surprised if you don't.

"The last thing I must explain is the eye contact. You are required to maintain eye contact with me during the entire ceremony. As your master, I am supposed to establish and maintain dominance over you by means of the eyes. Both Koh and Korn know that I have not, and will not, do that. But they do not understand what we have done instead, though I have tried to tell them.

"We have done this nine times, under a variety of circumstances. Not once have I seen in your eyes any sign of hate, distrust, betrayal, or blame. Instead, I've seen a warmth, an encouragement, a reaching out in friendship, almost a love, if I may use that term without being misunderstood. I do not expect to see that today. But I do dare to hope that you will not hate me."

"Why would I hate you?"

"The brand is very painful."

"I assumed so, but pain by itself does not produce hate. Deeply held expectations that were not met might result in hate. Whether or not I come to trust you is not a function of how much pain you inflict. It's a question of how honest you are. The first time you withhold essential information, or lie to me, even with good intentions, will be the moment you make it impossible for me to trust you. And even then, I would not hate you."

Koh and Korn arrived within minutes of each other. Kirk acted as butler, greeting them, and taking their wraps, then serving drinks, while the three of them chatted in Klingon. Konti had so thoroughly briefed Kirk that he did not have to understand a word of what was said. He got all of his instructions by watching Konti's hands.

In due course, Kirk fetched the branding case, and knelt in front of Konti. As he gazed up at him, Kirk sensed that Konti hated doing this. He wondered why, but this was no time to ask. He had no idea if he could manage to hold still, but he hoped so, as much for Konti's sake, as his own.

As the brand approached his face, Kirk had a sudden thought that Konti was going to blind him with it. He tried to dismiss the idea, but couldn't. Consequently, when the brand touched his forehead, Kirk was rigidly tense, not breathing, and his eyes were wide with fear. The pain was intense, but the fear unfounded. Kirk tried to breathe carefully. He was afraid to relax his muscles, and afraid not to. Four minutes was a long time. Maybe he could think about something else, and manage to avoid shaking. He began to notice Konti's eyes. Full of compassion and concern, Konti cared about him - his pain, his struggle. 'Love your enemies.' Did Konti love him? Could he love Konti? He had said he wouldn't hate him, and he didn't. But could he love the one causing this agony? Could he forgive the hurt? Did he want to?

His muscles reached their limit and started to twitch. He had to move. The only direction that might be safe was forward. He tilted his head slightly, pressing his forehead more deeply into the brand, while at the same time relaxing his arms and legs. This action intensified the pain, but he hoped it would allow him to remain motionless a bit longer.

Konti sensed the increased pressure immediately. The movement had been so slight as to be unnoticed, except for the pressure on the brand. Tears streaming down his face, Kirk continued to gaze steadily into Konti's eyes. No hate and no fear. Konti wasn't exactly sure how to identify what he saw in those eyes. Acceptance of the pain, to be sure, and many unanswered questions. Not trust, but not distrust either. That indescribable something, that Konti was now calling love, was missing or at least, if it was there, it was hidden, rather than shining forth as the most predominant element to be seen.

Finally Koh called time. Konti removed the brand and Kirk took a deep breath. After putting the branding iron away, Konti examined the brand carefully. Kirk's slight movement had not spoiled the brand. He drew his knife and added the tenth cut, noting that Kirk's eyes held a smile.

After putting the branding case away, Kirk stood by the bedroom door, his eyes on Konti's hands. He sensed Korn's anger, but of course, did not understand what was said. Korn only stayed a few minutes. He stared at Kirk as he received his wrap, but he did not speak. The atmosphere relaxed noticeably as soon as Korn left. Konti and Koh both switched to Standard, so Kirk could comprehend.

"Well, Kirk, I'm impressed. How did you manage to hold still when you were so rigid?" Koh asked.

"I didn't. Konti knows I moved."

Koh looked at Konti for confirmation.

"Yes, he did. I couldn't see it, but I felt it. He pressed his forehead into the branding iron. I don't know why."

"I didn't know what else to do. I had to move - my muscles were starting to twitch," Kirk admitted.

"I'm even more impressed. Even as a 16-year-old, you think fast under stress. And endurance is your middle name. You're going to need it if you're coming to my lab tonight."

"Konti's betting his life that I will."

"So am I. Korn wanted to be sure you knew that. Konti told him it wouldn't matter. That your decision wouldn't be based on whose life was at stake."

Kirk turned to Konti, puzzled. "What will it be based on?"

"If you decide you have a duty obligation to escape, you will go, regardless of who dies, including yourself. Otherwise, you will stay, and the level of pain to be endured is not a deterrent."

"Korn thinks it is. He wants me to break you. I mean, he _really_ wants it. But he doesn't want me to tell you what you're in for at the lab. He's afraid you'll run."

"Why does he care what I do?"

"Because Konti is his son."

Kirk looked from one to the other as he assimilated this revelation.

"Then why is Konti more loyal to me than to his father?"

"I have disobeyed no orders. I have committed no treason. You have been over-zealous in preserving my reputation as a loyal Klingon. So why do you say I am more loyal to you?"

"Because you care more about what happens to me than about what your father thinks of you."

"You must have seen that in my eyes. I don't know how to explain it. You have been a friend to me like no other. I cannot repay what you have done for me, but I do care, very deeply." Konti held eye contact to convey the intensity of his commitment.

Kirk was uncomfortable and tried to change the focus. "So Koh, you better not tell me what's in your lab. I can guess anyway."

"But you said we must be completely honest with you if you are to trust us. The branding and last night's beating are child's play in comparison."

"Charming. You don't need to give me a graphic description. Hours upon hours of non-stop, unbearable agony will do. But Konti's right, even as a 16-year-old, I don't run away from pain unless I have to."

"You're not afraid that I will break you?"

"Depends what you mean by break me. I have very little control as it is. I don't expect to be able to control my reaction to whatever you do to me. I'm not afraid of falling apart. If Korn wants to listen to me scream all day, he's welcome. I'm not afraid of spilling any secrets. If I had any, the mindsifter would have found them. What else could happen?"

"You might go mad."

"Unlikely. I'm just not wired that way."

"And you're not afraid of the pain itself?"

"Not at the moment. I might be by the time I get there. But I haven't let fear govern my behavior for over ten years, and I'm not about to start now."


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

Kirk did indeed spend the day with the language tapes. By day's end, he felt like his head was swimming in Klingon phrases. But when he asked Konti to speak in Klingon, he didn't understand more than a word here and there. And he still had made no attempt at trying to speak the language. Pretty discouraging, but he tried to be patient with himself.

After supper, Konti wanted him to explain what several Scripture passages meant. He felt very inadequate to the task. After two hours of blundering through parable after parable, Kirk had had enough.

"I don't know what it means! You can read it as well as I can. You figure it out!"

Konti stared for a moment, then quietly put his papers away.

"I'm sorry. You are tired. Do you wish to rest? There is time."

"No! I mean, yes. I'm tired, but I don't think I could sleep." He wiped a hand over his face and sighed. "I'm sorry, Konti, I shouldn't have barked at you."

"It is forgiven. I can see that you are troubled. Can you talk to me?"

_More transparency_, thought Kirk, and tried to find words for what he felt.

"I'm frustrated. Learning a language has never been easy. I feel inept, inadequate. Your command of Standard is remarkable, and my understanding of Klingon is miniscule. Furthermore the questions you're asking have been debated by scholars throughout the centuries. I'm no expert in what it means by what it says.

"In fact, I'm no good to you at all. I can't help with your translation. I'm supposed to be an example of God's love to you, and I can't do that either. The challenge of that letter is simply unattainable."

"Will you escape then?"

"I don't know."

"If you are determined to go, I will help you."

Kirk looked up in surprise. "That would be treason."

"Yes."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I want what is best for you. I am your friend."

"That's why you beat me, brand me, and send me to Koh for unspeakable agony?" Kirk's tone was understandably bitter.

"No!" Konti's face showed his anguish. "I have never wanted those things for you. I hate them! But you have accepted them as part of your situation, and laughed at me for being upset about them. So now, I will help you get free of them."

"I can't let you do that. It wouldn't be right. Maybe you should just kill me now."

"I told you once that if it became unbearable, I would do for you what you asked. Koh doesn't think there's any such thing as unbearable for you. But I heard what Korn said to him, and if there is such a thing, this will be it. So if you are going to escape, the time is now. You may not have another chance."

"Why do you keep talking about escape?" Kirk stood up and began to pace. "You told Koh I wouldn't go. You told Korn that too. Now you're trying to convince me I should. Why?" He turned to face Konti.

"It really will be unbearably awful, and it may go on for days. Kezak may have to cancel some shows. So if you're going to go, go now."

"You said that already."

"I do not want you to try to endure this and fail. Koh will break you if he can. Korn will make him do it. And I mean really break you. Without the power of God in your life, he will succeed. You won't survive it. The only wise thing to do is run."

Kirk sat down heavily. "I can't. Let me tell you a story. I was five years old and had just started school. The playground had a monkey bars, over twice as tall as I was. During recess, my older brother and his friends were playing on the bars. They didn't want me pestering them, so they told me I was too little. I said I wasn't, so they challenged me. Said if I would walk on top of the bars, they would let me play with them. Sam, that was my brother, lifted me up there. I looked at the ground, and I froze. I couldn't let go and stand up. They laughed at me, Sam took me down, and I ran off. But it ate at me all day.

"Now this was one of the few times my dad was home. So when I wouldn't eat my supper, Dad wanted to know what was wrong. Sam tried to tell me to keep my mouth shut. He thought he was going to get in trouble. But Dad took me out on the back porch, and I poured out the whole story. I'll never forget what he said: 'You don't conquer fear by pretending it isn't there. You conquer fear by doing the thing you fear.'

"He got a flashlight, told Mom where we were going, and we went back to that playground. We walked those monkey bars until I was no longer afraid of it. The next day, I did it in front of all the kids. They were duly impressed, but I hadn't really cared what they thought. It was the fear itself that had bothered me.

"Over the next weeks, the kids started calling me fearless. It wasn't so; on the contrary, I did the things I did precisely because I was afraid of them. Over the years, I've never lost the reputation. About once a month, some kid comes up with something nobody's ever done before. Word gets around to me, and I know that's my next challenge. I can feel it in my gut.

"So call me crazy, stupid, whatever. I can't run away from this, even if it kills me."

"I understand. I will pray for you. Remember the letter said you could ask Jesus for help. When you come to the end of yourself, cry out to Him and He will answer."

"Maybe."

xxxx

When Kirk arrived at the lab, the only Klingon in the room was Korn. He did not say anything, but stood guard at the door by which Kirk had entered. His hostility could be felt in the atmosphere. Koh's voice came over the speaker.

"Korn's here to intimidate you, and to see that I do my job. You can ignore him. Look around. There's something you always do first when you get here. I want to know if your body remembers what it is and how to do it."

The principal thing in the room was a padded table that reminded Kirk of a doctor's office. In the corner beyond it was some electronic-looking equipment, whose purpose was a mystery to Kirk. In another corner was a counter-top with some drawers underneath it. Kirk stepped over to examine what lay on the counter.

A shallow tray contained several hypos. The other item on the counter was an open box out of which spilled various wires. Kirk fingered the wires for a moment, then turned to see if he had missed anything else in the room. There was a second door, opposite the one by which he had entered. Along the near wall was what looked like a monitoring window, though of course, he couldn't see through it. Under the window, next to the counter was a small round hole, perhaps five inches in diameter. He looked at the window.

"If I had to guess, I'd say it has to do with these wires, but I could be wrong."

"Empty the box. Examine the contents. Let your hands do what they will."

So Kirk did. Tentatively at first, then with more confidence, he accurately placed every one of the leads.

"Congratulations. I thought you probably could, but I had no idea if you would. Do you know what those things are for?"

"Not exactly, but I can guess."

"Allow me to show you."

Koh set the dial at 400, and pressed the switch. Kirk gasped, clutched at the counter, and slowly collapsed to the floor. Koh grabbed the scanner and the remote cutoff, and quickly made his way to Kirk's side.

"Just as I thought," as he scanned Kirk. "You're not unconscious. So stand up."

"You're... kidding," Kirk gasped.

"No, I'm not. Your body can tolerate this for days on end, so stand up. Now!"

Kirk slowly struggled to his feet, but stood clutching the counter, and raising each foot alternately, as if the floor was hot.

"Let go of the counter. Face me. Stand still."

Kirk complied with each demand, trying also to control his breathing, but without success.

"Listen to me. You put them on; you can take them off. It's your choice."

Kirk glanced past Koh at Korn.

"Forget him. This is between you and me. Choose."

"I... will... not... run... from this."

"Are you sure? This is just the beginning."

"Yes."

"All right. Put your arm on the counter. I need to put in an IV."

Koh worked swiftly and within minutes had IV's in both arms. Then he told Kirk to give himself the injections.

"I'm not telling you what's in them."

"I don't know how."

"You can't do it wrong. Anywhere on your skin will work, but it hurts less if you put it in a big muscle. That's right; just press the plunger. Now there's four more."

Koh watched while Kirk gave himself each of the injections.

"Now lie down on the table. Flat on your back; head at that end." And he pointed.

Expecting compliance, Koh began to pull various things out of drawers. Kirk glanced at Korn and did as he was told. It took Koh the better part of an hour to hook everything up. Kirk was struck with his efficiency, the gentleness of his hands, and the thoroughness with which he was covered in hardware and rendered completely helpless. By the time Koh was finished, Kirk had his breathing under control, and was working on relaxing his muscles.

_So, you can still do it,_ thought Koh. _It just takes longer. Too bad I can't give you enough time, my friend. Korn won't let me._

Koh went back to the monitoring room, followed by Korn. Since Kirk could neither see nor hear, it made no sense to stay in the room with him.

"Do you want to talk to him before I turn all this on?"

"Kirk! Can you hear me?" Korn's voice was harsh and demanding.

"Yes."

"If you will give up those Federation secrets, we can avoid all this unpleasantness. If not, you will indeed be sorry."

"I have no secrets, and this is the last time I'm going to tell you that."

"You better not antagonize me. I have the power to turn off your pain."

"You don't believe me anyway, so what difference does it make?"

"It will make a lot of difference after several hours of agony."

Korn signaled Koh to turn on the equipment. Kirk screamed, and went on screaming and writhing in agony. Korn stood impassively and watched. Koh looked at the stress reader - off the chart. So Kirk was not faking. He checked Kirk's vitals, and steeled himself to listen to the screaming all night long. He was well aware of Kirk's stamina. This was going to take a long time. And who knew if Korn would give up even after Kirk was completely exhausted.

Korn had Koh turn off the agony every three or four hours. As soon as Kirk stopped screaming, Korn started pestering him to give up the secrets. But Kirk wouldn't talk to him. Koh assured Korn that Kirk was conscious and could hear him. He was just refusing to talk. Koh didn't blame him. There was nothing to say. But the silence infuriated Korn. He wanted Koh to increase the pain, but he couldn't. It was already at the max, and had been from the beginning, per Korn's orders.

It was a very long night. And an even longer day. Sometime after noon, Kirk's screams subsided into whimpers. About two hours later, Korn called another halt.

"Maybe now he'll talk to me."

_Don't bet on it,_ thought Koh, but said nothing.

Kirk did not reply to any of Korn's pestering. Thoroughly disgusted, Korn insisted Koh turn the agony back on. Kirk resumed screaming, but within half an hour, lapsed again into whimpers. Thoroughly tired, Korn gave up. At least until the next night.

As soon as Korn left, Koh turned off the machines. He entered Room A, and approached Kirk cautiously, remembering his previous reaction. He didn't want to be attacked. More importantly, they didn't have much time for Kirk to recover. They had to leave within the hour, if they were going to do the show that night.

It would undoubtedly be better for Kirk to cancel the show and let him sleep for 24 hours. On the other hand, the longer it took him to reach exhaustion, the more agony he would have to endure. He removed the helmet first, and began to talk quietly as he worked.

"Korn has gone. The agony is over for now. But your system is so traumatized that every touch will hurt. If I have to, I'll knock you out while I remove all this stuff."

"No." Kirk's voice was a hoarse whisper. "Hate anesthesia."

"You have to be absolutely still while I take these wires out of your back."

"Did I do it before?"

"Yes. Several times."

"How long does it take?"

"A few seconds for each. But it's not painless. And if you move, you risk permanent damage."

"Do it; I'll take the risk."

So Koh removed the wires, quickly and carefully, and Kirk didn't even breathe.

"That was nothing compared to what's been going on."

"I'm glad. Next is the IV's."

"Any chance you could give me some slack on this collar?"

"I can, if you promise to stay put until I'm done."

"It's a deal. I'm in no shape to move anyway."

"That didn't stop you before." Koh chuckled, and told him about the attack and the fear.

"So are you afraid of me now?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Does my touch hurt?"

"Yes, but hurt is relative. There's no comparison."

"I'm being as careful as I can."

Koh had all the head wires off and was working on the back.

"You're very gentle. I noticed that when you were putting all this stuff on me last night. Or have I lost track of time?"

"No, it was last night. It's a little after 1500 now. If we're going to do that show tonight, we have to leave by 1600. Are you up to it, or shall I tell them to cancel it?"

"I feel like a limp dish rag that's been put through the ringer too many times. But show time's not for four hours yet. How long did it take me to recover before?"

"The first time we did this, it took you a week. After that, you didn't need any recovery time. Now, who knows? I'd guess you'll be able to walk to the flitter, sleep all the way there, and be alert and functional for the show. The only thing that's likely to be a problem is the beating. Since your system's a mess, the beating will feel ten times worse than the last one."

"Even that's not as bad as this. I'll survive it. So don't cancel the show."

"All right. I'll go call Konti and be right back."

Koh was back a few minutes later and began working on Kirk's feet.

"It's all set. Konti and Kezak will pick us up here in 45 minutes."

"You asked me if I was afraid of you, and I said 'no'. But when you returned just now, I became aware of an apprehension."

"Feel like kicking me?"

"No. Just a low-level anxiety. Not sure of your intentions."

"Not surprising. Don't worry about it, unless it gets worse."

Koh had finished with the feet, so he took down the lines to the ceiling and flipped Kirk onto his back. Kirk gasped, went completely rigid, then took a deep breath, and started forcing himself to relax.

"Sorry. I should have warned you."

"It's okay. I should have been expecting it. My brain's not working very well right now. I'm too tired, I guess."

"No surprise. You're exhausted. It's a wonder you're coherent at all."

"I have a question, but I'm not sure how to ask it, or whether you have an answer, assuming you would tell me."

"I'm listening. Start talking."

"Okay. First of all, I'm assuming we will have to do this again. So I'm looking for better ways to deal with it. I'm not usually a screamer, but I couldn't stop. Did I handle it differently before? Do you even know what I did?"

"I can tell you what it looked like. I don't know how you managed to do what you did. But before we get into that, let me say this. I'm not surprised you're asking this question. It's typical Kirk thinking. I am surprised you're asking it this soon. I expected you to be still dealing with physical recovery issues. The question shows an emotional readiness to face it that I didn't expect."

"Why not?"

Koh changed the subject. "This big patch on your belly doesn't come off easily."

"So, do whatever you have to, and don't change the subject."

Koh yanked the patch off in one continuous ten-second pull. Kirk gasped.

"Well, why not?"

"I have to do the same to your face, except it takes four or five times longer."

"And you can't work and talk at the same time?"

"All right, then." Koh began on the face as he answered Kirk's question. "I have a machine that reads your stress level. I won't bore you with a technical explanation, but as long as you're on this table, I can tell how much stress you're feeling. It uses physical data, but it's measuring the state of your emotions.

"When you first came to us, I could not get that reading out of the basement. I was very frustrated. In all these months, that stress reading has been high only three times. And this is one of them. So that is why I did not expect you to be emotionally ready to face talking about doing this again. But, you obviously are, so-

"If you'll stand up, I'll get your hands free."

Kirk moved a little slowly, but managed to stand. Koh took off the handcuffs, and pulled the gloves off his hands.

"That's everything. If you can walk next door, I think we have time for a meal."

Koh served up a quick meal and talked while they ate.

"Screaming is the body's normal response to unbearable agony. So is tensed muscles, and various involuntary movements. But when the agony goes on for a long time, these responses become exhausting. The first time we did this, you lasted five days before falling apart. Once you started screaming, you became exhausted within twelve hours."

"I lasted through five days of this?!"

"That's a little misleading. We were doing a variety of things. You only had the wires in your back for the last part of it. But most recently, you breezed through two and a half days of exactly what I just did to you. No screams, completely relaxed body, no exhaustion, no stress. I don't remember what all we talked about, but it had nothing to do with what you were going through. You simply ignored it. At one point, I asked you if the system was working, because I could not tell by any response of yours. You just laughed.

"Later that night, you told me to go to bed, 'cause I was exhausted. You promised to be still here when I woke up. More laughter. Then you told me to stop worrying. You would be fine. And you were. I came back four hours later. You told me I should have slept for eight hours, though how you knew how long I'd been gone, I have no idea." Koh lapsed into silence and ate several bites before continuing.

"You taught Konti how to accept pain, and I heard what you told him, but it only partly explains what you do. Anybody can build tolerance for pain, but you do it faster than anybody I've ever seen. It has something to do with your basic attitude about it. Maybe you should ask Konti what he thinks. He'll be here in a few minutes."

Kirk finished the food on his plate and decided he probably would quiz Konti.

Koh was finished too, and paused before clearing the dishes. "Before he gets here, I have a question. What do you think of me now, after all the agony of the past day? And if you blame Korn for it instead of me, let me tell you that I will do the same thing to you even if Korn is not here. That if I can find a way to increase your agony, I will do it. Yes, Korn and his superiors are the driving force behind it, but I designed all this." He gestured to include the entire lab.

"You have cheerfully helped me perfect it, knowing what I would do with the information you gave me. Kirk, you have understood me as very few have. And you have never objected to being the victim of my experiments. Mostly you have been as curious as I, and more than willing to accept any amount of pain. It simply isn't an issue. But I do not expect you to feel the same about it now."

"So you have no moral problem with being responsible for all this?"

"At first, I didn't. You were an enemy, a prisoner, and I had a job to do. Over the months as I got to know you intimately, I began to hate my job and what I had to do to you. I became depressed and wouldn't tease you and make jokes any more. You wanted me to go on cheerfully disregarding the pain price you were paying, but I just couldn't." Koh shook his head and stared at the table.

Raising his eyes to Kirk's, Koh went on. "Then when you conquered the very worst I could throw at you, suddenly the depression lifted, and I could laugh with you again. But now, it's bothering me again. I'll do what I have to, but I don't like it."

"I'm sorry, but I'm glad to know it bothers you. I didn't think you were, by nature, a cruel person. Maybe when this is all over, you can find something to study other than pain, that will satisfy your scientific curiosity."

"Possibly, but thanks to you, I'm an expert. I'm sure there will be other victims. But I don't expect to find another like you. Who would want the torturer for a friend?"

"Don't think of yourself that way. Bitterness will eat you up from the inside out. And for however short-lived this might be, I would like to be your friend."

Koh stared at Kirk, and saw that he meant it. A knot in the pit of his stomach, that he hadn't even known was there, dissolved.

"I thought you would hate me."

Kirk smiled. "But I don't."


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

Konti sensed the bond between Kirk and Koh immediately. He was tempted to be jealous. But he really was very glad. After what they had just been through, he had half-expected Kirk to hate Koh, or at the very least, distrust him deeply. He had not dared to hope they would come out of it as friends. He breathed a prayer of thanks.

Kirk and Koh both slept all the way there. Konti wondered if Kirk would remember everything. Kezak wasn't worried. And the show came off without a hitch. Back at Konti's home, Kirk went straight to bed. At breakfast the next morning, Kirk seemed at ease, even cheerful.

"Has your memory returned?" Konti asked.

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Because the wariness is gone. You're not holding yourself aloof any more."

"Total cooperation, absolute trust, complete transparency doesn't seem quite so impossible today. Maybe I'm more rested."

"You've decided to trust me then?"

"It's not so much that I've decided, as that I find that I do trust you. I don't know that it's absolute. It hasn't been tested much." Kirk shrugged.

"You don't think last night's show was much of a test?"

"That's interesting. I sure did the first night. I remember how scared I was of that grid maze. But last night, it all seemed so normal - no big deal. I guess that tells you how much my trust has grown in two days."

"Would that have anything to do with what went on in the lab?" Konti pressed.

"Possibly. Though I'm not sure what that has to do with you. You want a graphic description of all the gory details?"

"If you don't mind talking about it."

So Kirk told him everything, including his conversation with Koh afterwards.

"So I'm hoping you can help me. How do I stay relaxed, not scream, and not fight it?"

"You realize you're asking for something that's impossible to do?"

"Koh said I did it before. If I did it, then it's not impossible."

"You have a high level of natural ability in this area. I can tell you what you told me, and I will, but I suspect you do much of it instinctively already. But in spite of your natural ability, you cannot conquer this level of agony without the power of Jesus Christ working in your life. Let me tell you what happened when I went to Koh's lab."

Konti shared for a couple of hours, and Kirk was glad for the input, but still not convinced he needed Jesus. They spent several hours working on the language, and Kirk seemed to be making a little progress. He consented to help with the translation, but steadfastly refused to interpret the meaning of the passages being translated.

Midnight came too soon to suit Kirk. Room A was empty when he arrived. He saw the wires box on the counter as before.

"Same program as last time?"

"Yes," Koh replied.

Kirk began putting on the wires.

"Do we have a visitor, or are we on our own?"

"Korn's not here. But that doesn't get you off the hook. I have to report everything. Biggest difference it makes is I want you to talk to me. I may ask questions, but don't wait for them. Tell me whatever you're thinking or feeling. Starting now."

"I'm remembering where each of these patches goes. Do you want me to do the other kind too? I seem to recall you pulled them out of a drawer."

"Maybe some of them. But not yet. Tell me more."

"You want to know how tied in knots I am. Very. The internal tension started rising as soon as I left Konti's house. Nervous apprehension is too mild a word for it. I may be controlling it outwardly, but that won't last long. It's almost worse than the first time, because now I know what it feels like, how awful it is. Konti said that one of the keys was acceptance. So right now, I choose to accept what you do to me."

Kirk had finished putting on the wires, drew himself erect, and faced the opaque window. He clearly expected Koh to turn on the pain generator. So Koh didn't.

"Put your arm through the hole under this window."

Startled, Kirk reluctantly complied.

"Keep talking, and relax your arm, completely."

Suddenly Kirk laughed.

"I just realized what you're doing to me. You're teasing. I'm all set for you to turn on the power, so you do something else instead. It's as if you're saying, just how much will you accept from me? And the answer is, whatever you dish out.

"Do you realize how difficult this is? I can't see you; I can't see my arm; I have no idea what you plan to do; and you want me to prove I accept this by keeping my arm and hand completely relaxed. Well, I can do it, but it's not easy."

Koh touched the tip of one of Kirk's fingers. Not a twitch. He stroked the tip of another, and another. Still no reaction.

"Does this hurt? How is your nervous system recovering from the last time?"

"Yes, it hurts, but it's not agonizing. I would say things are markedly better than they were 24 hours ago."

"One of the things I don't know is the cumulative effects of sessions spaced too close for you to recover in between. It's entirely possible that tonight's agony will feel worse than the first time."

"Charming." Kirk said this word in Klingon.

Koh chuckled. "Isn't it, though."

He had been putting in an IV while he talked. Kirk showed no surprise or other reaction when he realized what Koh was doing.

"All right. Give me the other arm now."

Kirk complied without hesitation. Koh worked swiftly and had the other IV installed in minutes. Then he had Kirk give himself the injections. Then because he had suggested it, he had Kirk install the strip skin patches he could reach.

"Keep talking. Does it make it worse, the more I make you do yourself?"

"No, well, maybe some. But mostly it gets worse, the closer we get time-wise."

Koh came in and put on the strips that Kirk couldn't reach.

"Now lie down. I can't do the belly patch while you're standing up."

"Much worse to be actually on the table."

Koh didn't strap him down however. He even had Kirk hold two corners while he worked. With the belly patch in place, Koh told him to get up and follow him. They went to Room B, and Koh put him through a basic workout. Nothing terribly strenuous, just enough to familiarize Kirk with the routine. After an hour of it, they returned to Room A.

"How do you feel now?"

"It was much better in the other room, but now that I'm back in here, it hit me like a ton of bricks."

"What did?"

"The fear. Seems worse, the longer you put it off."

"Hmm. And how do you feel physically?"

"Awful. I mean, I feel sick."

"Describe symptoms."

So Kirk did. Dizziness, seeing double, weak yet tense muscles, shaking, clammy skin, hot yet cold, very sensitive to touch.

"Every one of those symptoms is drug-induced. Last time, you were so overcome by the pain, that you didn't even notice these things. Lie down. Close your eyes. Relax. Completely. I want you to accept what the drugs are doing to you. You can't control it. Don't try. Let it wash over you."

"Why are you teaching me how to cope? Isn't that counterproductive?"

"I have my reasons. Don't worry. I can write a suitable report: victim commanded to relax in spite of drug-induced muscle tension, and other similar phrases. And you can do it; I know you can."

Kirk took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. Koh watched, smiled, then picked up a wrist and let it fall.

"Good. Keep that relaxed body all the way through what I'm going to do next, without my having to say any more about it."

Koh strapped Kirk down, flipped the table over, then lifted it off him. Normally this would have produced a gasp. Not this time. Kirk sagged against the straps supporting him, his head hanging. Koh went to work, attaching wires to Kirk's head. When he was finished, he flipped Kirk back onto his back and removed the straps.

"Well, how was that?"

"I'm still relaxed, but it's a struggle. You're driving me crazy with your teasing."

"Do you mind?"

"No, which makes me even crazier."

"At least you're consistent. You've always wanted me to tease. And as soon as you realize I'm doing it, you start laughing. Now, open your eyes."

He handed Kirk the helmet.

"As soon as you put this on, the only sight and sound input you'll get is from the helmet. You won't hear me leave to turn it on, or come back in here. Three things I want you to do. First, sort out the difference between drug-induced symptoms, and helmet-induced sensations. Secondly, stay relaxed. In spite of what the helmet is telling your brain, you will be lying on this table, completely unrestrained, totally relaxed. I should be able to touch you at random and get no response; lift a hand or foot and let it fall freely. Lastly, I want you to enjoy the ride. You have likened this to an amusement park ride, and we have enjoyed many hours playing with it. I want to know if you still enjoy it, in spite of the drugs which are making you miserable. Any questions?"

"How long is the ride?"

"I've got five or six hours of original tape before I have to start repeating anything. But I'm not telling you how long this particular ride is. When the tape stops, you can take off the helmet."

"Okay." Kirk's cheerful acquiescence showed the question had been merely curiosity, rather than anxiety or apprehension.

Kirk donned the helmet, Koh checked to make sure it was tight, then went to turn on the tape. While there, he glanced at the stress reader: not low, but nowhere near the top of the chart either. He returned to Room A several times to check Kirk's body for relaxation. By the time an hour had gone by, his stress reading was lower than when he'd started the tape, and his body was still completely relaxed.

He turned off the tape and went to talk to Kirk. His descriptions made it clear he had little trouble differentiating between the two types of sensations. Although he admitted that he'd been unaware and unable to sort out such things the first time.

"Now I want to find out if you can distinguish between the two types of skin patches. Also whether you can maintain relaxation throughout this test. This is a multiple choice test. A is the first type; B is the second; C is for both at once; D is neither; and E is you can't tell what it is. Every time you think it changes, speak out the letter. Don't wait for me to ask you. Any questions?"

"Why don't you strap me down?"

"Except for the head wires, which are attached to the equipment and have a limited range, you could do this test anywhere in the lab. However it is my impression that it is easier to relax while lying down. Perhaps a more important reason is that it gives you the opportunity to continue to prove your acceptance of what I do."

"Indeed."

Koh set in motion a pre-programmed sequence, varying the intensity of the pain and the speed of the changes. After half an hour, Kirk still had a perfect score and a relaxed body.

"Congratulations. I'm impressed. Now put the helmet back on and do it again."

Kirk complied without a word of protest or complaint. His score the second time was 90%, due to the distractions of the helmet input, but his body was still relaxed. Without warning, Koh flipped him onto the straps and took off the helmet.

"Talk to me."

"What shall I say? The effort to relax becomes almost impossible."

Kirk took a deep breath and sagged against the straps. Koh ran his finger down Kirk's spine. He didn't scream, but he gasped and arched his back, his whole body suddenly rigid with tension. Koh waited until Kirk started to relax, and then did it again. Same response. After several such repetitions, Kirk was thoroughly frustrated.

"I can't! You're making it impossible!"

"Are you mad at me?"

"No. I'm angry with me."

"You can do this, so don't say you can't. If you've done it before, it's not impossible."

"Okay. I'll keep trying."

It took the better part of half an hour, with Koh repeatedly stroking his spine, but finally Kirk managed to relax. Koh put the helmet back on and returned to the monitoring room. The stress reader registered at almost the top of the chart. Kirk was under more stress now than he had been with the skin patch test. Koh was mystified. He returned to Room A, and before removing the helmet, stroked Kirk's back again.

Immediately Kirk tensed up again. He growled in frustration. Koh let him relax completely before he did it again. It took almost another half hour before Kirk could stay relaxed through random touches. Koh took off the helmet and began to remove the head wires.

"Your stress reading is very high. Why?"

"This is very hard work. The emotional component that goes with relaxing is very difficult. Maybe I'm afraid you'll quit before I succeed. This is taking too long."

"Kirk, it's taken you one hour to do what it took you three hours to do the last time you tried. Not that I'm surprised. It never takes you as long the second time. And for what it's worth, I am no more a quitter than you are. Now get up. I know you've been wondering how you might manage it, so here's your chance. Preferably without disturbing any of the skin patches, please."

"You don't ask much."

Wondering if he might end up in a tangled heap, Kirk put his hands on the chest strap and vaulted out of the straps, clearing the frame, and landing neatly on his feet in front of Koh.

"Have I done that before too?"

"No, but I had no doubt that you could. Now go into Room B and do a complete workout. Same thing you did the last time, only this time, these-" He put his fingers on the skin patches, "will be turned on."

Kirk made no reply but immediately turned and did as he was told. Koh went to the monitoring room. He switched on both devices at once, full strength. Kirk gasped and staggered, but did not go down. He slowly proceeded through the workout exercises. He did not forget anything, nor did he pause to recover, but steadily focused on completing the task. When he was finished, he returned to Room A, without being told to do so, and climbed back onto the table straps. Koh observed that the stress reading was near the top.

"Talk to me."

"All the way through that workout, I feared a return to this."

"So you do the thing you fear; I see. All right, hop back out of there now. There's six injections on the counter. After that, put on the leg manacles, and the gloves. Then climb back onto the table straps."

Kirk complied without hesitation. When he returned to the table, Koh noted the stress reading was nudging the very top. Kirk didn't look any more stressed out than he had before, but he was. Koh watched him struggle to relax. Shaking his head, and sighing to himself, Koh went into Room A. He ran a finger down Kirk's spine, but got no reaction. Kirk had been expecting it.

Koh went to work on the head wires, occasionally stroking Kirk's spine as he worked. Kirk remained relaxed and unmoving. _Incredible control,_ thought Koh. Then without warning, he flipped Kirk onto his back again. No gasp, no tension. Koh looked into Kirk's eyes.

"What's funny?"

"By definition, it's impossible to expect the unexpected. Doesn't keep me from wanting to, though."

"You're laughing at yourself again." He paused thoughtfully. "Kirk, I have teased you unmercifully for the last four hours. Your stress level is higher now than when you got here. But you just think it's funny. Why don't you hate me?"

"I don't know. Perhaps because I sense your heart is not cruel and uncaring. Maybe because what you're doing is helping me learn to cope. Mind you, I don't expect to be able to control myself after you put those wires in my back. If I can avoid screaming, I'll count it a major accomplishment."

"I understand."

Kirk managed to remain silent for about two hours, through sheer force of will. The pain was intensely awful, worse than he had remembered. And the agony went on for hours upon hours. He sensed that it would be easier to take if he could accept it and not fight it, but he couldn't control himself. He was still screaming late the next afternoon when Koh finally turned it off. It was time for another show.


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

The next night when Kirk returned to the lab, Koh put the wires in at once. Kirk remained silent for four hours, then lost control again. The next time he managed almost eight hours before he fell apart. This was a double-long session; due to the show schedule, they had an extra day. So after four hours of preliminary teasing, eight hours of silent endurance, and twelve hours of screaming, they still had sixteen hours to go.

When the screams degenerated into whimpers, Koh lowered the line on Kirk's collar, hoping he could relax enough to survive the rest of it. His vitals improved slightly with the higher intake of oxygen. But relaxation seemed impossible. Koh began to talk to him. At first it was quiet encouragement. When two hours of this did not produce any results, Koh resorted to more drastic measures: yelling, mockery, and contempt. Nothing seemed to help. And Kirk either couldn't or wouldn't talk to him.

Somehow they survived those hours. When Koh turned it all off and began to remove the hardware, Kirk was very passive and still said nothing. They got through the show that night, but Kirk behaved like a zombie. Koh hoped a good night's rest would help. It didn't. The next morning, Kirk still lay in a corner of Konti's bedroom, curled in a fetal position, unwilling to eat or speak. Koh and Konti talked in the main room.

"Koh, what shall I do with him?"

"I'm not sure how much to push, but he's got to snap out of it. The thing is, I can't offer him any very good reason to snap out of it. Kezak says it spoils the show. Though I didn't think it was that bad. Kirk can perform in his sleep. So the only reason to make him snap out of it is so that he can say the pain didn't conquer him."

"If he doesn't snap out of it, how is he going to get back to your lab tonight?"

"Good point. That brings me to another problem. Korn is demanding a higher stress level, though why he's not satisfied with what he saw yesterday, I don't know."

"Yes, you do. As long as Kirk can do a show within hours of leaving your lab, he's not broken. As long as he willingly returns for more, you haven't reached the limit. If Kirk were himself, you know what he would say: don't be afraid of it. Do what you have to. I will still be your friend."

"But he's not himself, and I don't know if he would still call me friend."

"Go ask him. He's not asleep."

"You think he'll talk to me?"

"I think he'll answer that question. Friendship is more important to him than food."

"If he were himself, yes, but now?"

"Just go ask. You've nothing to lose."

So Koh entered the bedroom, followed by Konti. They stopped several feet away from Kirk, not wanting him to feel threatened.

"Kirk, can you hear me?" Koh began.

No response.

"Konti thinks you will answer my question. I want to know if you still consider me a friend. If the answer is yes, I want you to stand up and look at me."

After the briefest of hesitations, Kirk uncurled himself, stood up, and gazed at Koh. His expression was unreadable, but the message was clear.

"Are you coming to my lab tonight then?"

Kirk nodded without hesitation.

"You should know then that Korn is demanding something worse. If you were yourself, I would ask you-"

"Ask him anyway," interrupted Konti.

Koh turned to Konti. "You can't be serious."

"I am. Ask him, expecting an answer."

Koh gave Konti an odd look, then turned back to Kirk.

"Do you understand what Konti is telling me?"

Kirk nodded.

"All right then. What can I do to make it worse? To make your life more miserable, the pain more intolerable?"

Kirk's voice was a hoarse whisper. "Oxygen deprivation makes the pain less felt. Rig the head harness so I can't do that."

"Okay. Anything else?"

Kirk took a deep breath. "No breaks."

"Explain."

"No time off. You let me out only long enough to do the shows."

"Until when?"

"I don't know. Does it matter?"

"That's crazy! Non-stop agony for the indefinite future, except for six hours off every two or three days. It'll kill you!"

"Isn't that the idea? I should think it'll take about three weeks. Is that long enough to satisfy?"

"You think I'm trying to kill you?!"

"No, but you will, to save Konti having to do it."

"There are faster ways to kill you."

"Yes, but that would not satisfy Korn."

"Actually Korn likes you when he's not angry. It's his superiors that want you dead. And yes, they want you to suffer long and hard."

"So give them what they want. It doesn't matter to me."

"It doesn't?"

"Dead is dead. It doesn't make much difference how I get there."

"It ought to. But I have to go; I'm due in Korn's office in ten minutes. Promise me this: talk to Konti, and don't spend the day curled in a ball trying to avoid reality."

Kirk nodded. Koh left.

After breakfast, Konti wanted to talk.

"Let's forget the language tapes today. Will you talk to me instead?"

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Several things. First, why do you consider Koh a friend? You have suffered much at his hands."

"I don't know. I don't understand it myself. At first, I was certain I would never trust you, never forget you were Klingons. But now I think of you as Konti, as Koh, not as Klingons. You have personalities, strengths, weaknesses, needs, and desires. Trusting you is easy, because you care about me. I can feel it. So does Koh. He cares too much. You both do.

"As for the pain, I know Koh is doing it, but I don't put him in the same box with the pain. The two are separate. I can hate the pain without hating Koh. Though the fact is, I don't hate the pain either. At least, not yet."

"Talk to me about the pain. How are you dealing with it?"

"Not very successfully. I can control my reaction to the fear of it. Koh helped me with that last week. But the pain itself is a different matter. There are several different kinds of pain all going on at once. The cumulative effect is overwhelming. With one exception, not one of them is all that awful by itself. The exception is the wires in the back, and he's never given me a chance to find out if I could cope with it all by itself."

"Tell me about the wires in the back."

"He's got some kind of a machine that immobilizes my back while he puts the wires in. He doesn't use it to take them out, just tells me to hold still. Anyway putting them in and taking them out is no big deal. It's what happens after he turns the thing on. It's a random pattern; sometimes just one wire; often three or four; and at unpredictable intervals, all twenty at once. It's excruciating pain at the spine, coupled with shooting pain along the nerve to its extremity. It drives me crazy, and that's exactly what it's supposed to do."

"Are you able to relax at all?"

"With some of the other stuff, yes; not with the wires in the back. All I've been able to do is maintain silence, and even that I can't do for very long. Sooner or later, I end up screaming for hours on end. That's why I have no voice left. This last one, we had lots of extra time. Koh tried to get me to relax after I was too exhausted to scream, but it didn't work. He finally gave up. He's frustrated. He thinks I can figure out how to do this. He says if I can recapture it, I have the ability to tolerate any level of pain with ease. But I can't."

"Can I ask you a tough question?"

"Sure. Transparency is part of the program."

"You have been exhibiting classic signs of major depression. Do you know its source? Are you willing to open it up to me for healing?"

"Yes, though I don't know what you can do. I'm depressed because I can't conquer the pain. I can't force my body to accept it. In spite of my best efforts, my body insists on fighting it, even after I'm too exhausted to do so."

"So it's not the thought of death by three solid weeks of agony?"

"Maybe that contributes, but it's definitely not the source. I feel so defeated. I've never had to face a situation where my body refuses to do what I tell it to."

"This will sound contrary, but the first step to get where you want to go is to admit and accept the fact that you can't do it. Or are you still thinking there must be a way?"

"Well, unless Koh is lying to me, there is a way, because I did it. But I can't find it; I've tried everything I know to do. So for all practical purposes, it's true that I can't do it."

"You're admitting it then, but as long as it's making you depressed, you're not accepting it. May I pray for you?"

"You need my permission?"

"There's a limit to what I can pray for without your assent."

"Go ahead then."

"Lord Jesus, I am coming to You on Kirk's behalf, because he has forgotten who You are. But he does belong to You, and he is righteous in Your sight. Jesus, send Your supernatural peace right now. Demons causing this depression, I bind you, in the name of Jesus. You may not operate in Kirk's life. Peace and joy are flooding his soul right now. Thank you, Jesus!"

Konti looked at Kirk and smiled. Kirk began to laugh. Konti joined him and they carried on for several minutes. Konti recovered first.

"Talk to me."

"Nothing's changed, but everything's changed. There's power in your praying, like I've never experienced before. When you said, 'peace and joy', I suddenly felt washed. The depression is gone - simply vanished! But I'm overwhelmed! It's like a tidal wave - I can't contain it!"

"Don't try, just enjoy it. There's no one here but us. Let it overwhelm you."

So Kirk laughed again. After a while he stood up and began to pace, still laughing. Some ten minutes later, he lay on his back in the middle of the floor, still quietly laughing. Konti watched, smiled, and prayed for more. Kirk began to shake violently.

"Don't try to stop it. Let it happen."

Konti continued to pray for more. Suddenly Kirk sat up and began to sob. Konti sat on the floor next to him, but did not touch him or speak. After the sobs diminished and disappeared, Kirk lay down again. His face was peaceful, with a slight smile. A few minutes later, he turned onto his stomach, and took several deep breaths. His body looked completely relaxed. He spoke languidly.

"Touch me."

Konti ran a finger down Kirk's spine.

"Like this?"

"mm-hmm. Do it again."

Konti did, and Kirk sighed contently. A few minutes later, Kirk turned over and smiled up at Konti.

"I don't suppose this will last?"

"I don't know. When you did this for me, it lasted for hours, but not days. My impression is that before you lost your memory, you lived here all the time. Very little cracked your peace. And even now, you could have it, if you would call on Jesus and ask for it. He let me do this for you once, to show you what's possible. But if you want it in the lab, you'll have to ask Him yourself."

"It still hurts; I just don't care."

"I know. I lasted through a 450-lash beating. I felt every stroke, but the peace was so wonderful, I would've cheerfully let it go on indefinitely."

"450 lashes?!"

"Yes. Jesus has unlimited power to overcome whatever you're facing. All you have to do is ask."

"Everybody dies sometime."

"Jesus has conquered death too. One of the first things you said to me was that when you died, it would be when God decided it was time, even if it was my hand plunging the knife into your heart. I remember being shocked at how certain you were."

"Yes, well, whatever."

Kirk sat up, looking a little uncomfortable. "Since this is probably the last day I'll get to spend with you, what would you like to do with the time?"

Konti looked at Kirk and hesitated. He felt the Spirit of the Lord speaking. _Don't coddle him. Ignore his discomfort. He will listen._

"My heart's desire is for you to know Jesus. There's nothing I want more than to sit here and talk about Him. I have prayed earnestly that He would restore your memory. But you can know Him even if you never get your memory back. That upcoming marathon session in the lab does not have to end in death. If you will quit being so stubborn, and open your heart to Him the same way you opened your body to receive His peace, He will show you Himself even more powerfully than He has done this morning. Can you imagine being so caught up in the joy and peace of the Lord, that the hours of agony go by as if they were nothing?"

"No, I can't."

"Lie down. Turn over. Now drink in the Lord's peace for a minute."

Kirk took two deep breaths and sighed.

"Now imagine that you're feeling that pain right now."

"I don't think I have that good an imagination."

"All right. How about this then: when I touch you, it will feel just like the wires."

"Go ahead."

Konti played a random pattern with the fingers of both hands on Kirk's spine. He screamed; Konti stopped.

"You didn't believe it would feel like the wires."

"No, I didn't. What did you do?"

"Doesn't matter. Are you willing to let me do it again? This time, stay in the peace; don't get distracted."

Kirk did not reply, but took a deep breath and visibly relaxed. Konti tapped and stroked Kirk's spine for the next five minutes. No reaction. He sat back and studied Kirk, who looked asleep.

"Well? Did that feel like the wires?"

"Yes, it did." Kirk turned over and gazed at Konti. "And you're right, that's what I want to be able to do, and can't. But even if I could access this peace at the lab, there's a big difference between five minutes and fifty hours."

"Yes, there is. How many hours would it take to convince you the peace doesn't disappear with time?"

"I thought you said it did, that it was good for hours, but not days."

"That's if you have to get it through me, which you don't. You can have an unlimited supply constantly, just by asking for it. What will it take to convince you to ask for it?"

"I don't know."

"Kirk, I would gladly take your place at the lab if they would let me." He paused thoughtfully. "That gives me an idea. I wonder if Koh is busy today. Excuse me."

Konti got up, went to his terminal, called Koh, and chattered in Klingon for several minutes. Kirk got the impression that Koh wasn't very happy, but finally agreed to Konti's request. Konti switched off the terminal, and turned to Kirk.

"Get up. We're going for a ride. Save your objections til we get there."

Kirk rose and followed Konti to the flitter.

"How can I object if I don't know where we're going and why?"

"You're smart enough to have figured out where we're going, and I know you well enough to know you're going to object, vigorously. You're about to find out that I'm as stubborn as you are. Koh already knows it."

"Why would I object to where we're going?"

"Not to where, but to what we're going to do after we get there. Now stop trying to pump me for information. You'll find out soon enough."


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Kirk chuckled, but asked no more questions. Nor was he at all surprised to find their destination was the lab. It did surprise him to observe that the peace was active to the extent that he felt no apprehension. His expectation, that the session was going to start now instead of at midnight, brought no fear. Koh met them in Room A.

"Well, you didn't waste any time. I've just finished installing this monitor. Now I can read the stress level from here as well as from in there."

He gestured at the monitoring window.

"That's great! Have you got that remote toggle switch around here somewhere?"

"You want to be able to turn it off? Sure, I can rig that up in a matter of minutes. Do me a favor, hop on the table. I want to see if this thing works."

Konti sat on the table.

"Hmm. That's a low reading. Kirk, let me see what yours says."

Konti and Kirk exchanged positions.

"Very odd. Both readings are in the basement. Stay put a minute. Let me check this in the other room."

Koh left. Kirk and Konti smiled at each other but said nothing. A moment later, Koh's voice came through the speaker.

"Konti, let me get your reading again please."

Kirk and Konti switched places again. A moment later, Koh was back in Room A.

"All right, what are you guys not telling me? Has Kirk got his memory back? Nobody has readings that low in the torture chamber, except Kirk, before the mindsifter."

Konti laughed; Kirk smiled, and shook his head. Konti explained.

"It's the peace of the Lord that gives low stress readings. Kirk lost that peace along with his memory. I gave it back to him this morning. But it's temporary, unless Kirk asks the Lord himself. That's why we're here. I want to convince him to ask." He turned to Kirk. "I don't suppose you're convinced?"

"The peace is flowing to the extent that I don't care that the session is starting now instead of at midnight. But I still don't believe it'll last long enough to make any real difference in the long run."

"That's not the question. Are you willing to ask Jesus to give you His peace?"

"I don't know."

"Then we proceed as planned. Koh, go ahead and set up that remote switch. And is there any way you can run a microphone in here so we can talk?"

"Yes. He'll have to wear it. I can't pick up the whole room, without having a feedback problem."

"Understood. Let me know when you're ready to start putting on hardware."

"Okay, but Kirk knows how to do most of it."

Koh left, and Kirk started for the box of wire leads. Konti stopped him.

"Kirk, wait. This is not what you think."

Kirk turned to Konti with a look of puzzlement.

"Your session does not start til midnight. We are here now, because I am going to wear the hardware, not you. I am going to show you the Lord's peace in action. Koh will set it up and turn it on, but you will have the cutoff switch. There's only one rule for when you can turn it off, and that's when you've decided to say 'yes' to Jesus. If I start screaming, you can pray for me, but you may not turn it off. If you don't make that decision, then it stays on until midnight, when it's your turn."

Koh walked in during the last sentence.

"Better make it 2200 hours. There's things I have to do between the two of you."

"Fine, then. That still gives us almost twelve hours. Koh, I want to make sure you understand I want everything exactly the way you would do it for Kirk: same intensity levels, not adjusted for what you think I can tolerate."

"Konti, your body has not developed nearly the tolerance for pain that Kirk's has. You don't know what you're asking for."

"Yes, I do. I'm asking for something that will be impossible to tolerate short of the miraculous. I want as powerful a demonstration as you can manage. That means zero to max on everything all at once, too."

"Konti! That's crazy!"

"Will you do it?"

Konti and Koh stared at each other for a moment, then Koh relented.

"Yes, but I'm checking your vitals. Stubborn patients try my patience."

Konti laughed. Koh began preparing injections as he gave instructions.

"Pile your clothes in that corner. Take these injections first. That way, by the time I'm ready to turn everything on, you'll be feeling suitably miserable. Lately, we've been doing the IV's before the skin patches. Kirk, let me know if you need help with any of it."

Koh departed without waiting for a reply. Konti finished removing his clothes, took the injections, and thrust an arm through the hole to receive an IV needle. He looked at Kirk, who had neither moved nor spoken.

"Talk to me, Kirk."

Kirk turned haunted eyes on Konti.

"Don't do this. Please." His voice was little more than a whisper.

Konti was tempted to change his mind, because Kirk was so upset. But no, Kirk needed this, even though it would be hard for him.

"I'm going to do it. You don't have to watch. You can go work out, eat a meal, go for a walk, even take a nap."

Kirk mutely shook his head. Finished with the second IV, Konti turned to the box of leads.

"Can you help me sort this out?"

Kirk went to work efficiently, but silently, using gestures to communicate. Together they put on all the skin patches of both kinds. Kirk helped Konti put the gloves on, then had him lie down so Kirk could install the belly patch. When he was ready for the face mask, Konti stopped him.

"Kirk, I want to say this while I can still see you. I'm sorry you're so upset. I knew this would be hard for you. Please, do not blame yourself for my pain. I choose to do this because I want to. It's not your fault. Kirk, above all, you are a man of integrity. I want your word that you will not turn it off without having made the decision to open your heart to Jesus."

Kirk nodded, still unable to speak.

"I trust you, Kirk. Thank you."

Koh came in and attached a microphone to Kirk's collar. Then he finished the preparations Kirk could not do. Lastly, he handed Kirk the remote cutoff switch. Barely glancing at it, Kirk put it on the counter. Koh retreated to the monitoring room.

"Konti, can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear."

"Kirk, say something, so I can test your mic."

"I have nothing to say."

"That came through just fine, Koh."

"Last chance to change your mind."

"You know better than to ask."

"Konti, don't die on me."

"I won't, Koh. It's a promise."

Kirk stared at Konti, fists clenched, body rigid. Konti gasped and began writhing in agony when Koh turned on the equipment. Koh checked carefully, but Konti's vitals looked good, and the stress reading remained very low. It took Konti almost an hour to get his response under control, during which he occasionally breathed a quiet, "Jesus!", but otherwise did not speak.

"Sorry that took so long. I don't have much experience doing this."

"That you can do it at all is absolutely amazing, and your stress reading never rose either. Kirk is the only one I know who can do what you just did."

"Jesus is the source of the power for both. Anyway, I'll be fine now, so you can go to bed, Koh. And thanks."

"You're welcome. But I'm not leaving yet."

"Suit yourself. Kirk, are you still here?"

"Yes."

"Take a deep breath and relax. Where is the peace of the Lord?"

"Vanished."

"I'm sorry. Tell me what it's like to watch this."

"Awful. Terrible. Horrible. Gut-twisting anguish." Kirk could hardly spit out the words, he was so upset.

"Is it better now than it was?"

"Not appreciably. The pain doesn't go away, just because you're not screaming. And even if you're controlling it now, that doesn't mean you won't be screaming later."

"That's what we're here to find out. Koh, how many hours has Kirk managed to avoid screaming?"

"The last time, he went almost eight hours."

"Well, we've got more than that now. So go do something else, and come back in eight hours."

"No," Kirk flatly declared.

"Then talk to me, or we're both going to be bored."

"What shall I say?"

"Tell me what you're thinking about, or feeling, or ask me a question."

"I'd much rather be where you are than where I am. Can't we just forget this? I don't have to control it. It's not worth your agony."

"Kirk, it's worth your life. Stop blaming yourself. It was my decision. It's worth every minute to show you the power of Jesus."

"How can I not blame myself? You set it up that way. Every minute, every hour you suffer is because I won't press the switch to turn it off."

"That's because it needs to stay on until you're convinced, and we don't know how long that will take."

Kirk shuddered and voiced his despair. "What if I never get there?"

"I'm quite prepared to stay here until Koh says we're out of time. Indeed, my expectation is for long hours of it."

"Konti, why are you doing this?"

"I told you, to show you the power of Jesus in action."

"But why do you care about me enough to endure this? It's one thing to say you're going to; it's quite another to be in the middle of it, and say 'yes' to hours more."

"Kirk, you don't remember it, but you have endured so much for me that this is nothing in comparison. But you would have been appalled at the idea that I owe you this. You didn't do it with the expectation of getting anything in return. You did it because of Jesus' love. And that is why I am doing it: Jesus loves you and wants you to know Him."

"Then why doesn't He give me back my memory?" Kirk objected.

"He can't."

"That's crazy. God can do anything."

"There are some things God can't do: He cannot lie; He cannot violate His word; He cannot be other than who He is. Right now, He cannot give you back your memory any more than you can press the cutoff switch, no matter how much you want to."

"Are you saying it would violate His word?"

"When He created sentient life, He gave us freedom of choice. He cannot take back that freedom without violating His word. Though He knows what you need, He cannot give it to you unless you choose to receive it. If you are not open to receiving His peace, He cannot force you to receive the greater miracle."

"So if I want the benefits, I have to say 'yes' to Jesus. I wonder what made me say 'yes' the first time."

"As I understand it, you had your back up against the wall, with nothing to lose, and everything to gain."

Konti shared what he knew of Kirk's testimony.

"Sounds like I'm too stubborn for my own good. You better give up on me as a hopeless case."

"I will not give up. I'm as stubborn as you are."

They talked for hours, about many things. One or the other would occasionally return to the subject of Jesus, or Konti's pain. Konti understood that Kirk was waiting for him to fall apart, so he shared freely how he was doing with the pain.

At no time was he traumatized by it. He had spent the first hour trying to figure out how to use the peace of Jesus to eliminate the outward reaction. After that, it was easy. He felt the pain - could describe it to Kirk in detail. But the peace flowed through him and removed the need to react to the pain. Nor did it become more difficult with the passage of time. If anything, it was easier - more automatic.

Kirk however, did not find the passage of time easier. As the hours wore on, he became more agitated. He felt obligated to tell Konti why he continued to refuse Jesus. Konti had an answer for every objection, but he was not pushy or impatient. He wanted Kirk to understand, but he was in no hurry for him to make a decision. Kirk's sense of urgency came from within himself. If he could force himself to decide, then he could turn off Konti's pain. But it wasn't the kind of thing that could be forced.

Two of the objections that he raised repeatedly were that he didn't deserve it, and that the power couldn't last. Konti's answers were simple and direct, and he didn't mind repeating them as many times as necessary. About every hour, Konti would suggest Kirk go elsewhere. He always refused. Finally he got annoyed with the question.

"Are you trying to get rid of me? So you can start screaming as soon as I'm out the door? Or even get Koh to turn it off?"

"No, Kirk, I'm not trying to get rid of you. I only thought it would be easier for you to endure this if you were doing something else."

"Easier for me?! And what about you? Don't tell me this is easy for you!"

"Actually, what I'm doing is not hard work. It's not even difficult emotionally. Where the grace of Jesus is, the task is easy."

Konti never did answer Kirk's accusations about what he would do if Kirk left. Another time, Kirk voiced another accusation.

"How do I know you're really in pain? Maybe Koh turned the whole thing off hours ago."

"Pick up a skin patch; see if it's live. Test three or four."

Kirk did so.

"Now press the cutoff switch and see if they're still live."

"But-"

"It's okay. We should have done this before, to make sure the switch works."

So Kirk turned it off and verified that the skin patches were dead.

"Now, after a bit, turn it back on, and don't tell me when."

Kirk complied without protest, watching Konti carefully. No reaction.

"Now take the cutoff switch and go into the monitoring room. Koh's gone to bed, but he doesn't lock it. Play with the cutoff switch for a while. Turn it on and off three or four times. See what happens to the dials and lights on the equipment. When you're satisfied, come on back in here."

So Kirk went, kicking himself mentally. He should have just kept his mouth shut. He knew how much more difficult the pain was to take after a brief respite. Though he varied the length of each respite, there was no visible reaction from Konti to any of it, even when he left it off a full five minutes. He returned to Room A.

"Konti, how can you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Refuse to let yourself react. Not a twitch, not even a hesitation in your breathing. And you couldn't know when I was going to hit the switch."

"It's not that I'm refusing to allow a reaction. It's not a matter of sufficient willpower. It's the power of Jesus exerting His peace over my body. I'm not doing anything, except receiving His peace. That peace is undisturbed by the presence or absence of pain."

Another time Kirk again asked Konti how he could do what he was doing.

"Would you like to see what happens without the peace of Jesus?"

"What do you mean?"

"I could ask the Lord to withdraw His peace for a time, so you can see what happens without it."

"Why would you do such a thing?"

"Because the Lord loves you, and He wants me to show you His power. How long shall I ask for?"

"I don't know."

"Lord, five minutes doesn't seem long enough for an effective demonstration, but I don't know if we have enough time left to take a two-hour chunk out of it. So use Your own judgment on how long, but make the difference real obvious. Thank you, Lord.

"Kirk, watch the stress reader."

Immediately it began to climb. Within minutes, Konti was again gasping and writhing in agony. Kirk watched with clenched fists. The stress reading continued to climb. Konti's reaction became more and more agitated. Finally after about twenty minutes, he began to scream. Kirk could stand no more.

"Stop it!" he yelled.

"I can't!" was Konti's reply.

Kirk whirled to stare at the cutoff switch lying on the counter. Konti had expressly forbidden him to turn it off under these circumstances. He pounded his fist in frustration. Then he turned back to Konti, willing himself to watch and listen, and accept the emotional agony. He felt the least he could do was endure it along with Konti.

About ten minutes later, it abruptly stopped. Mid-scream, Konti took a deep breath and sighed. The stress reading plummeted. His muscles relaxed, and he spoke calmly. "Thank you, Lord. Kirk, are you still here?"

Kirk also took a deep breath, and tried to relax.

"Yes. Did you think I would leave?"

"I would not have blamed you. It was pretty bad. I can see why you want to not scream. How did you manage to last eight hours?!"

"By refusing to let myself give in to it. Once I start screaming, it's hopeless; I can't stop. So you've convinced me that whatever your secret is, it's pretty powerful. So, can we quit now?"

"Have you decided to say 'yes' to Jesus?"

Kirk did not reply.

"Then we're not quitting til Koh says we have to. Kirk, the secret is Jesus. What more can I say or do to convince you?"

"It's obvious you have some power I don't have. You say it's Jesus, but the only way I can be sure you're right is to take the risk, make the commitment, and then find out if there's really power in it. Now I won't say I'm not a risk-taker, because I am. But I haven't decided yet whether I want the power bad enough to make such a commitment. Once made, I can't run my life the way I see fit any more; I have to do what Jesus wants. Maybe by the time I was 50, I'd made enough of a botch of my life, that turning over the decision-making power to someone else was a relief. But at age 16, I'm still foolish enough to think I know what I want better than anyone else.

"So you see, my lack of decision has nothing to do with you. You've made your point very well. There's nothing more you can do. So can we please quit this now? Enough is enough." Kirk took two steps away and turned back, wondering if further begging would help.

"We are not quitting for two reasons. First, I will not change the rules in the middle of this. What I said at the beginning stands, because it would violate my integrity to do otherwise. I'm sorry you don't like it, but it won't kill you, and as I said before, you don't have to watch."

"But I'm going to. What's the second reason?"

"If we quit now, you would always wonder whether I could have finished strong, or if I would have fallen apart. Koh won't let me do two or three days of this, or I would, just to build your faith. It would be no more difficult for me than what I have already done, but I can't prove it."

Konti paused thoughtfully, then seemed to change the subject.

"Kirk, do you have any close friends?"

"Depends what you mean by close. I have a couple of buddies at school; then there's Sam - that's my older brother. He just- but, that happened thirty years ago. Any friends I had are long gone now. And any friends I've made since then, that I don't remember, undoubtedly think I'm dead. Why do you ask?"

"Your school buddies, or your brother Sam - do you ever share with them things that are real important to you?"

Kirk shook his head. "No, not really. School is no place for that kind of thing. Sam? Well, he would defend me to the death. But then, he would turn around and tease me unmercifully. So I don't give him any ammunition if I can help it."

"Would you be interested in a relationship with someone who would never tease, with whom you could share anything, and get unconditional acceptance?"

"Oh, I don't mind Sam's teasing. It's a game we play. Doesn't mean he doesn't love me - on the contrary. He explained it to me about twelve years ago. Some of it sounds really mean, but he does it to make me strong. When he finds an area of weakness, he hammers at it constantly until I can laugh. A couple of years ago, he was complaining one day that he couldn't find anything to tease me about. I said, 'don't let that stop you'. So since then, we've just had a lot of fun with it."

"I'm not surprised, but that doesn't answer my question. Are you interested in a relationship in which you're completely accepted, whether you're strong or not?"

"I don't think you understand," Kirk insisted. "I don't need acceptance from anybody. It's what I think of myself that drives me. And I require me to be strong, always."

"And are you always strong?"

"No."

"So what happens when you don't live up to your expectations?"

"I keep working at it until I change - become strong. Doesn't matter how long it takes; there's no such thing as 'give up'."

"Do you ever accept help in your quest to be strong?"

"Of course. But it has to be from someone who understands. Help from someone who thinks I shouldn't be driving myself isn't help at all."

"Is being strong the most important thing to you?"

Kirk thought for a moment. "No. Integrity and duty are more important. Though I can't say I recall a conflict between them. Being strong helps me do the right thing and stand on my word."

"Jesus understands you perfectly. He can help you be strong if you let Him. He will not try to make you be other than who you are. But it is a choice between life and death. If you refuse His help, you will die. I cannot save your life, but Jesus can, and He will, if you let Him. It's your choice. But don't wait too long to decide."


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

Koh woke at 2130, ate a quick meal, and went to the monitoring room. One look told him they were still at it. This tape would make for interesting listening. Konti's stress reading was still in the basement. He doubted if Kirk's was, but he couldn't tell by the tone of voice, or the subject of their conversation. It sounded like Kirk was relating an event from his childhood. Konti laughed. Koh went to Room A.

"Konti, Koh just walked in." To Koh, "I never thought I'd be so happy to see you. Do I infer correctly that time is up?"

"Yes, it is. Turn off the power if you would, and give me a hand with all this."

Working swiftly, they had the hardware removed in half the time it usually took. Konti was impressed with how well the two worked together without getting in each other's way. Kirk was quite a remarkable person. Full of surprises. Well, he was not sorry he'd done this, though it hadn't produced the result he was after.

When he was on his feet, Koh kicked them both out of there, saying he had work to do. Konti thanked him for his help, and they left. Kirk was silent on the trip home. Konti served up a quick meal, which they ate in silence.

"Are you angry with me, Kirk?"

"No. Just thinking about what is to come. Sorry I'm not being attentive."

"I understand. Kirk, I have a favor to ask."

"What is it?"

"Before you go, would you touch my spine?"

"Why?"

"Because I want to know what it feels like."

"I'll do it on one condition: tell me how you got that curious scar on your belly."

Konti laughed. "You put it there." And he shared the story of the cross on his stomach. While he talked, he took off his shirt, and Kirk stroked his spine half a dozen times at random intervals. No reaction. When Konti finished the story, he put his shirt back on and turned around.

"Thank you. Kirk, I know you're not afraid to die, even a slow and hard death such as this. Are you afraid to live, with Jesus as your Lord? Think about it. I'll be praying for you."

The next afternoon, Kezak rode with Konti to pick up Koh and Kirk for the show. Kezak outlined the schedule for the next week. Four shows in the next seven days, with the fourth being in the capital.

"I could schedule a show every night if you want. There's that much interest. He gets better billings than either of the last two shows I did. But I don't want Kirk to burn out either. Since the mindsifter, his heart hasn't been in it."

"I don't think Kirk cares what you do. He likes the shows, but he's distracted with other things right now. Ask Koh what he can tolerate. If Koh okays it, go ahead and schedule more shows."

When Kirk and Koh boarded the flitter, Kirk gave Konti a brief smile, lay down, and promptly fell asleep. Koh reported that Kirk had done the entire sixteen hours without screaming. The stress reading was still pretty high though. Kezak asked about more shows. Koh vetoed it unless Kezak was willing to cancel the beatings. Kezak said that was one of the greatest draws for the show - the chance to wield the lash against Kirk.

"Well, if you limit it to twenty lashes, I'll okay a daily show. Not more than that."

"Twenty lashes doesn't even draw blood!"

"Exactly."

"I can't do that. No blood would spoil the show!"

"Then every other day is the most you can have."

"I'd really like to have a five-day run of daily shows here in the capital. That's only 300 lashes altogether. Then we would take a whole week off. What do you say?"

"Yes," Koh admitted reluctantly. "Kirk could handle that. So when do you want this five-day run to start?"

"In six days. We've got two more shows after tonight's in Pendukgh."

"All right."

Koh was thinking Kirk would not survive the week off, if he had to spend it in the lab. What a way to die! But they might as well get it over with. Spread out in sixteen hour chunks, there was no telling how long Kirk might hold out.

The show went better than usual, because Kirk was in a good mood. Konti dropped Kirk and Koh at the lab afterwards. There would be no more solitary walks for Kirk. Konti observed Kirk's bloody back as they departed, and wondered how Koh would deal with the mess. With his usual efficiency mixed with complaint, no doubt.

"What a mess!" Koh exclaimed over Kirk's back. "How am I supposed to deal with this?!"

Kirk chuckled. "Frankly, I don't care. That's your problem."

"I'm going to divide your back into four quarters. On this piece, I'm putting synthskin." He worked as he talked. "This quarter gets an anesthetic spray. Then I put the skin patches on three of the four quarters, and we'll see how you do."

xxxx

When Konti arrived to pick them up some forty hours later, Kirk was silent and zombie-like. Koh reported that he had lasted twenty hours before starting to scream. Then he had screamed for twelve hours and whimpered for eight. He was exhausted. Kirk perked up a little after a nap. So the show was okay, though not outstanding. Back at the lab, Koh woke Kirk by tapping on his spine. He jerked spasmodically, but made no sound.

"Why do you persist in doing that to him?" Konti asked Koh.

"Because he wants me to."

"He does? Did he say so?"

"No. But I know it nonetheless."

Kirk turned haunted eyes on Konti as he left the flitter, not having understood their Klingon. Konti prayed for him.

Two days later, Kirk was visibly more exhausted. Koh said he'd only lasted eight hours before screaming. Besides Korn had been there for a while, tormenting him, turning the pain off and on, repeatedly. Kirk only just barely managed to do the show. Kezak was alarmed. If things didn't improve, the five-day run coming up would be a disaster.

Konti got a call from Koh early the next morning.

"Kirk's been screaming all night, and it sounds more hysterical to me than usual. Can you come?"

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

When Konti arrived at the lab, the first thing that struck him was the sound of Kirk's screams. He truly did sound emotionally out-of-control.

"I have the volume turned down in here, or it would be impossible to think."

"How are his vitals?"

"Disgustingly healthy. Nowhere near dying. But the stress reading is off the chart. And it can't stay there without affecting his vitals eventually."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know. I can't stand the thought of him falling apart emotionally. I want him to die strong, like I've seldom wanted anything."

"Koh, I could go in there and pray for him, and he might get temporary relief. But it's just putting off the inevitable. Were Kirk himself, he wouldn't want me to do that. And I'm not even sure the 16-year-old Kirk would want it. So we're stuck watching it. I could pray for you though."

"Me!? What for?"

"You're pretty upset. Don't try to kid me."

So Konti prayed for Koh, and they continued to watch Kirk slowly come unglued, like he'd never done before. Hysteria, mixed with angry outbursts, sobbing and an occasional intelligible word of pleading. Konti clung to the peace of the Lord, and continued to pray.

_Lord, isn't there anything I can do?_

_ No. Stay out of it. And remember that the hour before dawn is the darkest._

The hours wore on. Noon came and went. Kirk's hysteria continued. Normally he would have subsided into whimpers after twelve hours - not this time. His emotions summoned reserves of energy and went into overdrive. Koh was ready to drop from exhaustion.

"Go to bed, Koh. I promise I'll call you if something changes."

"I just can't believe he's still at it! And his readings? It's not natural, even for him! That stress reading has been off the chart for hours. But his vitals don't show any sign of shutting down. How can he do that?!"

"He isn't doing it; Jesus is."

"Doing what?"

"Sustaining his body until he gets tired of having a temper tantrum."

"You call this a temper tantrum?"

"What do you call it?"

"I'm too tired to call it anything."

"Go to bed, Koh."

xxxx

Six hours later, Kirk was still at it. Koh brought food for both Konti and himself to the monitoring room.

"You want a nap now?"

"I'm good for several hours yet, but thanks for the food."

Their vigil continued.

"Konti, why did you call this a temper tantrum?"

"Because he knows what to do; he's just refusing to do it. He could have complete peace; all he has to do is ask for it; but he won't, because he doesn't want Jesus running his life."

"He doesn't have much life left."

"Tell that to a 16-year-old."

About two hours later, a subtle change came over Kirk. It seemed to Konti that there was a new frenzy about it.

_Lord?_

_ Yes, you may._

Konti spoke aloud. "In the name of Jesus, I bind you, demons. You may not trouble him. Go to Jesus."

Immediately Kirk was silent. The silence lasted only a moment, but the frenzy was gone and did not reappear.

"What was that all about, if I may ask?"

"Demons were trying to take control. The Lord let me kick them out. Notice he's not quite as hysterical as a moment ago?"

"If you say so." Koh didn't seem convinced.

About a half hour later, Kirk spoke a single word, little more than a whisper.

"Jesus-"

Kirk was silent, and this time the silence remained.

"What did he say?"

Konti didn't answer, but pointed to the stress reader, which plunged to zero. Kirk took a deep breath, stopped moving, and spoke in Klingon.

"I'm sorry that took so long. It can't have been easy to listen to. Sometimes stubbornness is not an asset." He chuckled ruefully.

Konti grinned broadly. "Thank you, Jesus!"

Koh looked puzzled. "What happened?"

"Ask him." Konti gestured at the window.

Koh turned on the mic. "Kirk, what happened?"

"The Lord just gave me back my memory."

"I gathered that, because you're speaking Klingon. But that's not all. Give me some detail."

"Most of the last however long it's been is a blur."

"This session has been going on almost 22 hours. It is the fourth session without a break."

"So we have lots of time to talk. Unless you're expecting visitors?"

"No, I'm not."

"Do me a favor and call Konti. Tell him his prayers are answered."

"Kirk, I'm right here. I've been here since 0615 this morning."

"I'm sorry you had to endure the screaming. Koh's used to it, but you're not."

"Koh doesn't like it any more than you or I. So you better tell him what he wants to know before _he_ gets hysterical."

Kirk and Konti both chuckled.

"All right." Kirk took a deep breath and sighed.

Koh jumped into the gap. "For starters, tell me this: is the equipment working? Do you still feel it?"

"Oh yes, the system is working just fine. And so are my nerves. Would you like me to prove it? Have you got a way to monitor how many wires are delivering at once?"

"Yes."

Kirk began rattling off a list of numbers: 2,6,3,1,20,8,5,etc. He kept it up for several minutes.

"Well, how accurate am I?"

"You missed one. You said 16 when it was only 15. I'm impressed, and you've proved your point. Now, tell me what happened."

"I remember several days ago, I had pretty much decided to leave Jesus out of it. There just wasn't enough reason to make that commitment. It was my stubborn pride that wanted to be able to control myself. I felt morally opposed to an eleventh hour decision - it was not right to ask to get bailed out at the last minute.

"Anyway, by the time this session started, I had had all I could take. I couldn't stand any more, but I had to. Emotionally, I was a mess. I began to wonder how fast I could manage to die. As the hours went by, I realized the answer was not nearly fast enough.

"Mind you, there wasn't a whole lot of coherent thought - just occasional lucid moments. In one of those moments, I remember being perversely glad you were stuck listening to me. Served you right, I thought. I wasn't making any effort to control it - couldn't have, if I'd tried."

Koh busied himself checking the readings, trying to keep his emotional distance.

"At some point not too long ago, things got markedly worse. My memory may be foggy, but I think I wanted it to get worse. I thought that if I could get hysterical enough, I could die. Konti, it's a good thing I didn't know you were here, or I would have asked you to kill me. I definitely wanted to die.

"I can't explain why, but suddenly, I knew that was not the answer. I quit trying to work myself into a frenzy, quit trying to make myself die. Possibly as a result, coherent thought seemed more doable. If I wasn't going to die any time soon, then I was going to live through this.

"For the first time, I began to think of what came after. What kind of shape was I going to be in at the end of this forty hour session? I couldn't think past that to more sessions, but I remembered that I'd been almost non-functional for the last show. Doing a show after this would be impossible.

"Then I remembered that that's what Korn wanted - to make it impossible for me to go on. Oh, I know it's Korn's superiors, but I don't have names for them. Anyway, so why not give in to the inevitable? But I can't, not until I'm really dying, and who knows when that will be."

Konti frowned at the reminder of that onerous task.

"So dying wasn't an option, and neither was giving up. The only thing to do was to figure out how to be functional at the end of this session. To do that, I had to overcome the hysterical reaction, and do it soon enough that I had time to recover my stability before the show.

"It was at this point that I remembered that this was the first show in the capital, and Kezak thought it pretty important. I considered the idea of defiance: that I would show them I was unconquerable. But I had only to listen to myself to know how ridiculous that idea was. I had already been conquered - thoroughly.

"In the end, the deciding factor was my friends. What I would not do for myself, I would do for you. I would not commit myself to Jesus simply to avoid the hysteria. I would do it to be able to function and do tomorrow's show - because it mattered to you two and to Kezak.

"I opened my soul to Jesus with one spoken word: His name. The result was instantaneous. The lost memories flooded in, the hysteria vanished, and I'm back to normal. The Lord's peace sustains me, and will continue to do so for the indefinite future. Doesn't matter how long these sessions go on; you can't kill me this way. They'll have to think of something else."

"As I recall, you thought up this one. Which reminds me, why did you tell me to do this?" Koh asked curiously.

"It was part of the rules of the game. Besides, I feared it."

"I don't know anybody who wouldn't."

"That's irrelevant." He paused thoughtfully. "Koh, do you consider me your friend?"

"Yes, I do."

"One of the things close friends are for is to ask the tough questions, raise issues we maybe don't want to face, challenge areas of weakness where it hurts. Are you willing to let me be that kind of friend?"

"Yes. It would be a privilege."

"Thank you, Koh. Here's my question: you have seen the power of God demonstrated several times in these last months. What keeps you from giving your life to Him?"

Koh was thoughtful. "I don't know. Maybe because you never asked me. I've always thought of Him as your God. It never occurred to me that He could be my God. I was absolutely astounded last week when He did for Konti the same thing He did for you. He's obviously very powerful, but- give my life to Him? I don't know. I've got some questions."

"Ask them. We have lots of time."

"Well, for one thing, there are some things I don't understand about what I've seen today. Frankly, I've been more than a little angry that He made you suffer so much. He could have given you back your memory long before today. Why didn't He? I'm not sure I want to serve such a hard God."

"God did not make me suffer; I did. His nature is a self-giving love. Because I wouldn't receive that love, He had to let me suffer. As long as I chose to suffer, He could not heal me. And don't think I didn't know what I was doing. Konti laid it all out for me in black and white. Because God lives inside of me, He feels everything I feel. He loves me enough to endure all that, patiently waiting for me to turn to Him."

"That reminds me of another thing. All those hours you were trying to die, Konti said the Lord was keeping you alive. Let me explain: as a 16-year-old, your stress reading was always high, even when you were not screaming. This session the reading was off the chart right from the start. Ordinarily a reading that high would start to affect your vitals within a few hours at most. When I told Konti how strong your vitals were, he said Jesus was sustaining your life until you got tired of having a temper tantrum."

Kirk laughed.

"Why aren't you angry that God wouldn't let you die? To go on living is nothing but agony."

"Oh, life is a great deal more than agony. Pain is just the backdrop - a minor distraction. The desire to die was demonically inspired. The real me doesn't want to die. Even the 16-year-old me came to the conclusion that dying wasn't the answer."

"Konti kicked the demons out. The timing coincides with your ability to think."

"Thank you, Konti."

"You're welcome. The Lord wouldn't let me do anything before that. Told me to stay out of it. Believe me, it was a long day."

"Double thank you. So Koh, do you have other questions?"

"Why would anybody choose to suffer if they didn't have to?"

"I can think of lots of situations where it would be right to choose suffering. But what you really want to know is, why did I stubbornly resist the Lord, even when it cost me so much trauma. The trauma itself was never the real issue. My 16-year-old self would rather have died than have to admit that I was conquered. But I did admit it.

"The real issue was the relationship. It wasn't whether God was who Konti said He was, or whether He could do what Konti said He could. It was whether I wanted Him to, whether I would give myself to Him, in exchange for what He would give me.

"Koh, if you're going to become a Christian, it will cost you everything you have and all that you are. The question is: is it worth it? My answer is a resounding 'yes'! He will take what you give Him and in return, He'll give you all of Himself. That means, you have unlimited power to face any situation and walk in victory. Just like I'm doing right now. I had been completely overcome by this pain. But now, even though the situation has not changed at all, I am now unconquerable. Which is to say, Jesus in me is unconquerable."

Kirk went on to explain other elements of the package: eternal life, right-standing with God, victory over sin, health, wealth, and persecution. They talked long hours into the night. Konti finally went to bed. In the early hours of the morning, Kirk led Koh to the Lord. After some initial instruction on his walk with the Lord, Kirk suggested Koh get some sleep.

"And what about you?"

"I'm not going anywhere. I'll still be here when you get up."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Koh, I'll be fine. I've enjoyed this conversation immensely, but the peace of the Lord doesn't depend on external input. So stop worrying and go to bed."

"Kirk, I would turn this off if I could."

"I know, but it might cost you your life, and I don't think the Lord wants you to do that right now."

"Okay. It's just after 0400. I'll see you about noon."

"Fine, but if I'm asleep, don't wake me until you have to."

"Good night. Pleasant dreams - if that's possible."

Kirk laughed. "Never underestimate the Lord. Good night, Koh."

xxxx

Spock and Young were on the Rec Deck, playing chess. As usual, Spock was winning. Suddenly Young sat back and looked at Spock.

"Once more, I concede the game. Spock, you continue to surprise me. I would expect a very logical approach from you. Yet much of your strategy seems to come suddenly out of nowhere."

"I played much with Captain Kirk."

"Spock, you still think he is alive?"

"Yes, Captain, he lives."

Young hesitated, then seemed to reach a decision.

"I have a very unusual request, and I will understand perfectly if you refuse."

"I am yours to command, Captain."

"This has nothing whatever to do with your duty as an officer. Gisa is very curious about you. I promised her I would ask. Will you spend some time with her? Answer her questions? I know you are a very private person. Many of her questions may disturb you."

"I have long been aware of her curiosity. My concern is not for myself, but for rumors which might arise as a result of her interest in me. Therefore, I consent to indulge her curiosity, only if it is in the privacy of your quarters, and only if others are present: either yourself, or two others of your choosing."

"Thank you, Spock. You are very generous. If she asks a question you don't want to answer, just say so."

"There will be no such question."

"Maybe."

xxxx

Spock spent the next three evenings in Young's quarters. He was prepared for questions about Vulcan mating practices, Vulcan physiology, Vulcan emotional control, Vulcan philosophy and culture. He answered all such questions freely, with no apparent embarrassment. Then she surprised him. They had been discussing the Vulcan use of personal shields.

"May I touch you?"

"For what purpose?"

"I want to know if I can sense your shields."

"A human could not. Possibly you could. I have no objections, but I cannot give such permission. Only your husband can allow such a thing."

"Spock, what she is asking for is much more than laying her hand on your arm."

"I know, Captain. I am unaffected by her pheromones. You are not. Could you watch such a thing? And do you wish to indulge her curiosity to such an extent? If so, know this: I will not permit it to degenerate into an orgy, simply to satisfy her curiosity about me as a man."

"I'm not worried about what you will do. I'm concerned about what I will do. Gisa, I'm sorry, but the answer is 'no'. Spock may have no limits, but I do. It's just not safe, and the consequences I don't even want to consider."

"Very well. I withdraw the request."

"There is something else I might do for you, that does not involve pheromones. Would you like to visit my mind?"

"You mean-" Gisa's face lit up.

"It would require my touching you."

"You have my permission, Spock, if Gisa would like to."

"Oh, yes!"

"Guide my hand to your face."

*Come in, Gisa. What would you like to see?*

*Everything!*

So Spock gave her a guided tour of his mind. When he withdrew, she sat in silence for several moments.

"Thank you, Spock," she finally said. "I learned more in the last few minutes than in the last three days. But I have more questions."

"The hour grows late. Perhaps another time?"

"But these are very different questions. Who is this Jesus you spend so much time with? How can you talk to someone who isn't here? And what is faith? And-"

"Gisa," Young interrupted. "Hold the questions. Spock said, another time."

"I have no objection to answering the questions, now or later. I assumed you would not want me to stay all night. And perhaps you do not wish me to address these questions at all."

"Actually, I do admit to some curiosity on this subject. And I'm not nearly as anti-Christian as I used to be."

So they talked most of the night. And several more nights that week. Two weeks later, Captain Young and both his wives were in the water getting baptized. The rejoicing continued for most of a week thereafter.


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49

In the middle of the night shift, the Red Alert siren went off. By the time Spock arrived on the Bridge, the Red Alert had been canceled by Sulu, who had the watch that night. Young was right behind Spock.

"Report!" Young took the center seat, and Sulu moved to the Helm.

"Red Alert was triggered automatically by the approach of the vessel you see on the screen, sir."

"That's a vessel?! It's huge!"

"Yes, sir, but I recognized the vessel as that belonging to First, the race we encountered two years ago. Twenty-nine is the Ambassador from his people."

"I have him on audio, sir," informed Uhura. "He's asking for Captain Kirk."

"Put him on, Uhura."

"-speak to Captain Kirk, please?"

"This is Captain Young. How can I help you, sir?"

"Is that the _Enterprise_? Where is Captain Kirk?"

"Yes, it is. Captain Kirk is not here. We have Ambassador Twenty-nine aboard. Do you wish to speak with him?"

"Is Spock there?"

"Yes, he is. Spock?"

"How can we assist you, sir?"

"Spock! I have to talk to you! Request permission to bring you aboard."

"One moment." Spock turned to Young. "Captain, it sounds urgent. But you should know that our transporter cannot retrieve me, and communicators only work sometimes. Depending on the length of this conference, I could be unreachable for hours."

"Do you trust him, Spock?"

"Yes, Captain. I am not concerned for my safety."

"Very well, then. You may go."

xxxx

Spock was gone for four hours. Upon his return, he and Young were closeted in conference for another hour. Messages were dispatched to Starfleet, and Spock returned to First's vessel. This sequence was repeated several more times throughout the day. After the final reply came from Starfleet, Young called a briefing.

Scotty sat down next to Sulu. "Di ye know wha' this's aboot then? Rumors ha' bin flyin'."

"Uhura knows some of it, but Spock and the Captain haven't said a word."

Uhura sat down with a smile. "Save your guesses, gentlemen. We're about to find out."

Young and Spock entered together, and the murmuring ceased.

"You all know that First's vessel arrived yesterday, and that Spock has spent many hours over there in conference. I'm going to turn this briefing over to Spock."

"Thank you, Captain. First has come here to get Captain Kirk and the six of us. He wishes us to come to his galaxy for the purpose of solving a planet-wide dilemma, which has the potential to destroy an entire civilization. Many lives are at stake. This mission would be entirely voluntary, as it is outside the jurisdiction of the Federation. Starfleet has, however, given their blessing for us to undertake this mission, and has approved an extended leave of absence for each of us. But I must point out that our circumstances will probably be highly unpleasant, and survival is by no means assured.

"An even greater problem is that Captain Kirk's participation in this mission is absolutely essential. Due to the nature of the problem and its solution, Captain Kirk is the only one they trust sufficiently to do what is necessary. Therefore, Starfleet has given their approval to attempt to rescue Captain Kirk from the Klingons."

"Spock, I know you think he's alive, but-"

"Doctor, I _know_ he is alive. I do not know his condition. But before a rescue is attempted, I must know whether you all consent to go. Without all seven of us, there will be no mission."

Without hesitation, they all agreed to go.

"Very well. I expect the rescue attempt to take another day, possibly two. You will need to prepare your departments to do without you for several months. Captain, that is all I have at this time."

"Thank you, Spock. Seems like we ought to pray. Any volunteers?"

"I will, Captain," Sulu spoke up. "Lord, it's a miracle if Captain Kirk is even alive. Rescuing him is a different matter, but no less miraculous. We need another miracle, God. Please help us get Captain Kirk out of there alive. And whatever is going on in First's galaxy, may we be able to help them, and so spread Your love to all we meet."

"Amen," echoed several others.

"Thank you. Meeting dismissed."

xxxx

Spock accompanied First on a reconnaissance trip to the Klingon home world. They made numerous high speed flybys, gathering data. On the first pass they located Kirk, the only human on the planet. On several subsequent passes, they discovered his surroundings. In the capital city, he was in a large building with many people in it. Translating what was being said, they deduced this was a public beating. Examining the data in the admissions office, they discovered the beating was only part of the show, the finale. Also, there was another show set for the following night. An hour later, Kirk was alone. First wanted to snatch him and run.

*I would not advise it, First. If he simply disappears without any explanation, those responsible for keeping him get blamed for his escape. Such blame would most certainly result in their deaths.*

*Why is that a concern?*

*I know Captain Kirk. No matter what they have done to him, he would not want them to die because of him. No, we must devise a way to take him that places blame on no one. I think we have seen enough. Take us back to _Enterprise_, if you would. I have an idea, but I will wish to consult with Dr. McCoy. How good an actor are you?*

xxxx

Kirk was tired but happy, and the days passed quickly. He continued to subsist on the IV's for nourishment, but since he wasn't doing any workouts, the hunger and thirst were not major issues. Most nights, he got a few hours of sleep, but much of the time he spent praying. Most of the daytime hours, he spent in conversation with Koh and Konti. Each afternoon, Kezak came and they spent an hour or so discussing the show. They managed to add something new each night to maintain audience interest.

Kezak was pleased with the shows. Kirk and Konti worked extra well together. The new elements flowed, even without practice, adding pizzazz to the performance. The crowds went wild. The only ones who were unhappy were Korn's superiors. They attended every show and scowled in anger throughout. Konti worried about them. Kirk said they wouldn't create more trouble until the next week, after he had survived a seven-day-long session without falling apart.

"Are you sure you'll survive it?"

"As sure as I can be about something that hasn't happened yet. And we have all of next week to come up with something else that will satisfy them. Of course, you could simply kill me."

"Kirk! You know I can't do that!"

"Konti, I know you don't want to. I also know that if you have to, you will, and God will give grace to endure it. I have known from the beginning that there would come a day when it was time to die. I neither fear it nor blame you for it. I will still be your friend, even as you plunge the knife into my heart. But if I can find a way for someone else to do the deed, I will take it. Do not harbor bitterness in your heart at the means of my going, no matter who kills me."

xxxx

The last night's show began normally. No one had any premonition of doom. The flitter ride to the arena was full of joking around. Kirk's back was a bloody mess, but he so steadfastly ignored it, that the others did too. Konti surprised them all by insisting that Kirk take the pilot's seat, when they boarded. Kirk was both eager and reluctant.

"As a plan for killing me off, this has one major flaw: the three of you die too. I've read somewhere that crash-landed flitters tend to blow up."

Nonetheless he took the pilot's seat. Konti sat beside him.

"I know you can do this. The possibility that you were not trained for this is non-existent. Never mind what the instrumentation says; close your eyes, put your hands and feet on the controls, and just do it."

So Kirk did. The takeoff was smooth and effortless. One of the things that amazed Kirk was how Spock, whoever he was (sigh), had been able to leave him with skills and the wisdom of years, without any specific memories as to how he had acquired them.

His command of the craft was so automatic that he was able to joke with the others all the way there. The touchdown was as light as a feather. He turned to Konti. "Thank you."

"You've just been promoted to my chauffeur. That was beautiful!" Konti grinned.

Their collective good mood spilled over into the show. The drama went like precision clock-work, even the part they ad-libbed. Kirk made several risky moves during the obstacle course. He made it look as if he was disobeying Konti's direction, thereby getting himself into dangerous situations. Konti knew Kirk could negotiate the entire obstacle course without any help from him, and probably do it on a dead run without one misstep. Though none of it was in the script, Kirk was playing games, partly because he was in such a good mood, and partly because he was bored.

Kezak played it up for all it was worth, and the crowd loved it. Konti was forced to discipline Kirk on the spot with a lash across the back of the legs. The crowd went wild at Kirk's staged response, but Konti knew he was laughing. Nor was his good humor diminished by Konti's anger, which he felt through the vigorously applied lash. Underneath the anger, Konti was also laughing for joy, because they could do this without any need for words, advance planning, or rehearsal.

Kirk did it a total of four times, so that by the time they were ready for the grid maze, Kirk had collected an extra ten lashes on the back of the legs. Still, they looked nothing like as bad as his back. Konti climbed onto Kirk's shoulders, once more ignoring the bloody mess. He anchored his feet between Kirk's arms and his ribs.

Kezak explained to the crowd that Konti's feet were pinned in such a way that he could not jump off unless Kirk released him. So if Kirk fell, Konti would die too.

The grid maze was Kirk's favorite part of the show. The pattern was randomly generated, so it was never the same twice. He could also read Konti's emotional state through the contact with his legs. Satisfied that Konti was not really angry, Kirk plunged into the maze, happy as a lark. No one but Konti, and perhaps Koh, knew how happy Kirk was, because he presented a picture of pure dread, as he took each step.

Konti could feel that Kirk wanted to go faster. Perhaps they could manage it, if he could make it appear as though he were driving Kirk faster and faster, while he grew more and more reluctant. It worked, like a complex dance. Kezak was ecstatic, and could hardly contain his desire to tell the crowd what they were really seeing. He would have to content himself with the knowledge that there were three in tonight's audience who would understand and appreciate it.

No longer content to just get across the arena, Konti drove Kirk into several dead-ends, and went back and forth in many different directions. Kirk got the impression that Konti was actively trying to confuse his sense of direction. He would have laughed out loud, except with the head device on, he had no idea who might hear him besides Konti. So he just enjoyed being teased.

Suddenly the entire arena was plunged into darkness. Konti's impression was of a massive power failure, but emergency lighting was out as well. The darkness was complete. They were within a few feet of the edge of the grid, but he could not be certain the floor wasn't live, so they would stay right where they were until power was restored.

Kirk sensed Konti's alarm immediately, but it was clearly not panic, so he was content to await further developments. They were so accustomed to doing the show without talking that neither thought to attempt communication.

The crowd took several minutes to react. At first, they assumed it was part of the show. When the darkness and silence continued, they became uneasy. Then someone yelled, "He's escaping!"

Before the crowd could become a rioting mob, Konti bellowed a response.

"No, he's not! We haven't moved! Please, stay in your seats; remain calm; we will finish the show just as soon as power is restored."

The crowd took a collective sigh and settled back to wait, more or less patiently. The next moment, someone in the back stumbled in and announced the whole city was affected. Meanwhile Kezak had found a megaphone, and he jumped into the shocked silence.

"We regret the interruption in tonight's entertainment. I have technicians working on the problem right now. We should have an update on the situation very shortly. If it becomes necessary to cancel the remainder of this show, we will be offering a choice of alternate dates, as well as a full refund if so desired. In order to receive your free tickets to an alternate showing, or a refund of your purchase price, we will need complete information from you before you leave tonight. Remain seated until an usher obtains the required information from each of you. Again, we should know in a few minutes whether the show will have to be canceled. Remain calm; bear with us, as we sort out this unfortunate interruption in the night's entertainment."

Kezak continued to soothe the crowd, and within a few minutes more, had them thinking that nothing very terrible had occurred. Konti hoped he was right, but if the whole city was down, that was definitely not nothing. While Kezak talked, the arena was suddenly filled with a weird light - wildly pulsating colors.

Kirk's impression was that something very large had just been transported into the space behind them. That impression was based on the rush of displaced air that passed by them, as well as a tingling sensation as of being too close to an energy source. He could feel Konti trying to look over his shoulder without unseating himself, so Kirk carefully turned around. He felt Konti's body go rigid at what he saw.

The weird light emanated from a huge creature. Konti forced himself not to turn away or close his eyes. He dimly heard Kezak assuring the crowd that this was not part of the scheduled entertainment, but to remain calm; it would undoubtedly be explained shortly. Konti doubted that the explanation would be at all reassuring. A booming voice began to speak somewhat stilted Klingon. Konti could see nothing that resembled a head, much less a mouth, but the voice obviously came from the creature before them.

"You will undoubtedly have discovered that you have no power. There is no power in this building, nor in the city, nor anywhere on the planet. You will want an eye-witness confirmation of this truth. I will take your spokesman and show him."

Kezak suddenly disappeared. The creature, however, remained. The silence was deafening. Two minutes later, Kezak reappeared, though not in the spot from which he had disappeared.

"Tell them what you saw," the voice boomed.

"The visual effects were astounding - quite realistic. There appears to be no light anywhere on the planet. The only power comes from his ship - biggest thing I ever saw, though it's hard to judge perspective with the naked eye. Anyway, I'm impressed."

"But you don't believe it?"

"My business is entertainment. One of the tools of my trade is to make the eye see things it isn't really seeing. So don't expect me to take your impressive graphics as proof."

"What will it take to convince you that I have complete power over your planet? Must I kill hundreds or thousands of you?!"

"Perhaps not. Tell me this: you did not come here just to say 'hello'. What do you want?"

Konti was impressed with Kezak's boldness. If he was afraid of the creature, it certainly didn't show. But then, Kezak was a superb actor.

"Breakfast."

Kezak did a perfect double-take. "Say again?"

"Breakfast. I require a meal - a very special meal. I could simply take what I want. But you seem to be a people of some honor. Perhaps you would choose from among you twenty specimens. I only require one, but I like to have some choice. And be sure to include that tall one over there." He gestured at Konti and Kirk. "None of you have enough arms, but he seems to have more than the rest of you."

"That's two people, one sitting on top of the other."

"Oh. Well, include them both then, and yourself as well. Then you only have to find seventeen others bold enough to die for their world. That should not be difficult among so many."

"You want me to line up twenty of us, from which you will choose just one, which you will eat. After that, you will go away and leave our planet alone?"

"I am not likely to come this way again. There are many planets."

"And what assurance do we have that you will not take up residence and require a daily sacrifice?"

"None. But you are in no position to bargain. Shall I just take what I want?"

"No, not yet. Answer this question, if you will: we may all look alike to you, but we do not all taste the same. Do you have dietary requirements, as to type of blood, for instance?"

"I am omnivorous - blood type is of no importance. What matters the most is the attitude of the specimen. Fear stinks."

"I see. Then a prisoner would not be a suitable specimen?"

"That would depend. Do you have any that would face death without fear?"

"Perhaps. May I have a few minutes to discuss this with my people?"

"You may have five minutes. But do not try to leave the building. The exits are all disabled. I will return."

"Wait!"

"What is it?"

"It would help if you left us with a light. Without it, five minutes would not be enough time to _find_ the people I need to talk to."

"Very well. One light."


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 50

The creature disappeared. A moment later, one spotlight came on, which shone directly on Kezak. A small example of the creature's superior technology. As Kezak again addressed the crowd with reassuring words, several people converged on Kezak's position: Korn, two of his superiors, Koh, and Konti, still perched on Kirk's shoulders. Kezak finished with the crowd, stepped out of the spotlight, and spoke to the six gathered there.

"Konti, get down from there. Does Kirk know what's going on?"

"Not a clue, though I'm sure he knows something is going on."

At a signal, Kirk released Konti's feet, Konti jumped down, and Kirk stood quietly. Kezak continued.

"We don't have much time. First question: are we going to give him what he wants, or try to fight him? Second question: are we going to try to persuade him to take Kirk? And third question: what about the fear issue? And my opinion on the first question is that he probably can do whatever he wants, so fighting him is a useless waste of lives. Konti?"

"I will do what I am ordered to do."

He looked directly at his father. Korn got nods from his two superiors. He spoke quietly, but firmly.

"Kirk is expendable."

Konti did not reply. He was thinking that Kirk himself would agree. But Kezak was talking again.

"We have so little time. Korn, perhaps you could gather the other volunteers we need, while Konti and I try to figure out how to make him pick Kirk."

He handed Korn the megaphone, and drew Konti, Koh, and Kirk away from Korn and his two superiors. Korn addressed the crowd and called for fifteen volunteers, young adult males without families. They came, though reluctantly. It seemed no one was eager to be breakfast for a monster from space. Kezak talked quietly.

"Koh, can you loosen that head device so Kirk can hear, without it appearing that he can?"

"Yes." Koh did so.

"Kirk, can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"We have very little time, so just listen. The show has been interrupted by a visitation from outer space. He has cut power to the entire planet, and demands one live specimen to eat for breakfast, before he will go away and leave us alone. And he's made no promises not to come back, though he says it's unlikely. Korn's superiors have okayed the idea that you be the victim.

"We have two problems. The monster has demanded a lineup of twenty of us, from which he will choose one. We have to figure out a way to be sure he chooses you. Secondly, he has specified that the victim must be one who does not fear. I don't know whether he will judge by outward appearance, or if he has some way of knowing the true state of your emotions.

"I've left the head device on you, because we want the audience to think you have no idea what is going on. We know you're the best person in this whole building to face this without fear. But we can't let them know that. You'll have to ad-lib your last act. There's no time to script it. Any questions?"

"Eaten alive by a monster. This should be interesting." He smiled. "Konti, I'm glad it wasn't you. No time for goodbyes either." He looked at each of them as though he could see them. "I love you guys! It's been great fun! Don't grieve for me - remember the joy!"

The monster returned as Kirk was speaking. Konti took his right elbow, Koh his left. Kezak took up position on the other side of Koh. Korn stepped up to stand next to Konti. The other volunteers joined the line, and they waited in tense silence.

"Well, I'm glad to see you have decided to cooperate," the voice boomed. "Take one step forward, and spread out, please. Now starting at this end," he gestured with an appendage, "turn around slowly, so I can look at you."

Kirk thought the voice sounded artificial, but that was reasonable since it was speaking Klingon. This seemed highly unusual monster-behavior, almost civilized. Oh well, even the civilized had to eat. He began pondering what he could do to be noticed, that wouldn't be out of character. He heard Konti turn around. His turn next, but he waited for Konti to turn him. A few moments later the monster spoke again.

"Counting from the same end, will numbers 2,3,5,8,9,11,12,14,17, and 19 take another step forward. The rest of you can sit down."

Korn and Koh were out. Konti, Kirk, and Kezak were 11,12, and 14.

"Now starting from the other end, each of you say one word."

Kezak's word was a Klingon phrase that meant, 'the show must go on'. Then it was Kirk's turn. He remained silent. After an awkward pause, Kezak explained that he could not hear.

"Ah, a deaf-mute. That is unfortunate. Next, please."

Konti's word was, "Jesus."

Kirk whispered urgently to Konti.

"He's going to reject me! Do something! Pick me up and throw me down in front of the line. Now!"

Konti did, just as the monster had heard from the last person in line.

"What's this? Dissension in the ranks? For that, you will both stay. Also, 3,5,14, and 19. You others are dismissed. The six of you remaining, strip down to the waist. I want to see your muscles."

Kirk slowly stood up and faced Konti, with typical slave demeanor in his body language. Thanks to Konti's workouts, he shouldn't get rejected for lack of muscle mass. He waited quietly.

"All right. 3,5, and 19 dismissed. You three who remain take off any metal you are still wearing."

Konti and Kezak took off their belts, chainmail skirts, and boots, leaving them almost naked. Koh ran up and removed Kirk's handcuffs and the head device. Kirk took one look at the monster and turned to Konti.

"Wh...h...a...a...tt is tha...at!?"

Konti stepped in close, grabbed Kirk by the arms, and shook him til he rattled.

"You will be silent! Not a sound out of you, or I will tape your mouth. Do you understand me?!"

Kirk gulped convulsively and managed a nod.

"So, he is not a deaf-mute after all. Excellent. Now comes the most important test. The three of you will walk towards me until I tell you to stop. You will then stand motionless while I touch you; and we will see which of you fears."

Konti and Kezak each took one of Kirk's arms, and he allowed himself to be led, while appearing to be absolutely terrified. Within a few steps, they encountered a gravity threshold. Konti and Kirk, being spacemen, adjusted immediately with hardly a misstep. Kezak had no idea how to walk in one-third standard gravity.

"Just glide," whispered Kirk.

As they continued to move closer, Kirk got the impression that they had crossed a sound barrier as well. He suspected the audience would not hear anything they said. His guess was further supported by the fact that the monster's voice had lost its booming quality.

"That's far enough. Spread out. That's right - 12 must stand without being forced. Indeed, each of you must stand still, though it may interest you to know that if you must scream, no one except your two companions will hear you."

So Kirk's guess was confirmed. The monster extended an appendage towards each of them, waved it in their faces, and wrapped it around their waists, pinning their arms. Then without warning, he raked the end of his appendage across Kirk's chest. Konti and then Kezak likewise received the same treatment. Kezak gasped.

"You all right?" inquired Kirk.

"I guess so." Kezak's response was shaky.

Kirk glanced at Konti, who gave him a reassuring smile. Neither of them had reacted to the knife-like pain. Since there was no visible damage to either of his companions, Kirk didn't even bother to look at his own chest. The monster held them pinned while he resumed talking.

"Most surprising. Not what I would have guessed from your appearance. 14, how well do you know your companions? Tell me what you think the results of my test are."

Kezak looked at Kirk, who nodded fractionally.

"We are actors. It is our business to appear other than as we truly are. Of the three of us, I fear the most, though I have put on a bold face. Konti fears less, partly because of his experience with the unknown, partly because of his association with Kirk, and partly because he wishes you would choose him, though he knows you won't. Kirk simply doesn't fear. But it is important for Konti's future health, that the audience continue to think Kirk is a coward. So will you please not tell them that Kirk is fearless?"

The appendage holding Kirk squeezed him slightly.

"Is he telling the truth?"

"Yes. I have a request before you begin your meal."

"I thought perhaps the reason for your lack of fear was ignorance."

"That is what we want the audience to think. Do you understand the concept of honoring one's given word?"

"Yes."

"I want you to give me your word that you will take from this planet no one's life except mine."

"You are in no position to bargain. I told your companion that already."

"I am prepared to give you as pleasant a meal experience as you can describe. Do you prefer a victim who struggles and screams, or one who is relaxed and peaceful? Either Konti or Kezak will verify that I can deliver what I promise. Do you have any specific desires?"

"I would like for you to remain completely relaxed, and yet deliver a blood-curdling scream, choked off at the point of death, which I will broadcast to the entire building. Can you do that?"

"I can if I deliver the scream early. It will sound like the point of death, but I will still be conscious. Do we have any visuals to worry about?"

"No. You will be completely encased in my arms."

"Why are you concerning yourself with our need to have it appear that I am a coward?" Kirk asked.

"Because it amuses me. I have never encountered a victim whose concern was other than self-preservation."

"I don't mind dying; I don't even mind being your breakfast. What I do mind is the idea that my life is not enough, that you would come back and take others too."

"If you can maintain complete relaxation, I will do as you wish."

"Thank you. Will you release my friends now?"

Kirk turned first to Kezak.

"Thanks for everything. It was great fun. Talk to Konti about Jesus, Kezak."

"Goodbye, Kirk." Kezak turned and stumbled away.

"Konti, remember Jesus is with you even after I'm gone. Take care of Koh. Don't let him wallow in depression."

"Kirk - I'll never forget you!"

"Jesus is the reason I came. Don't ever let go of Him. Goodbye, Konti."

"Goodbye, Kirk."

Konti turned away. Kirk took a deep breath.

"Ready whenever you are."

The monster began wrapping his appendages around Kirk's body. Something about this felt familiar. Another ghost of a memory. Almost done with the aching void. Well, Spock had been right, as usual. Now why...(sigh) It hadn't been years, but it had been a lot longer than he expected. He'd enjoyed it very much. Life was hard to leave. He wondered what eternal life would be like. Undoubtedly worth this present unpleasantness, though so far, it wasn't particularly unpleasant.

He was now completely enclosed. He wondered what came next. The appendages began squeezing him. He thought briefly of a boa constrictor, but this squeezing was different - an undulating motion, and not severe enough to be painful. Kirk lost contact with the floor, lay back, and enjoyed the massage. When would it be time to deliver the scream? Certainly not before it started to hurt.

The squeezing was starting to become a little more aggressive, but nothing he would have called painful. He had assumed the whole process would be over in minutes. Perhaps he was wrong. He hoped Konti and the others wouldn't have to watch a lengthy death scene.

Suddenly the knife-like pain landed on his head, just for a second. A few moments later, he did it again, almost a caress, his touch was so light. A third and fourth time seemed to increase the intensity of the pain. Kirk wondered if the monster was trying to knock him out. If so, he'd have to work a lot harder than that. The next touch was much more prolonged, and he heard a voice in his head.

*Scream.*

"Well, if you insist. I'm nowhere near dying."

*Do it now.*

So Kirk gathered himself for the scream. As he did so, the squeezing suddenly became actually painful, though he was certain he had no broken bones, nor did it approach agony. The head pains increased in frequency, as the appendages repeatedly touched and withdrew.

Kirk screamed.

Konti heard it as he watched the monster eat Kirk. What a way to die! 'Interesting,' Kirk had called it. Well, it certainly wasn't boring! 'Remember the joy,' Kirk had said. They had been having a wonderfully joyous time, before this monster had spoiled it. 'Don't harbor bitterness against the one who kills me,' Kirk had said.

Konti prayed. _Lord, this is hard. My soul hurts. I need Your peace, Lord, to be able to walk through this with joy. Kirk is still my friend and always will be. I am so thankful for everything he gave, for all that he was._

Konti moved outside himself to pray for Koh and Kezak. A few minutes later, the monster finished eating, thanked them for a delicious meal, and departed. The next minute, power was restored, and things could return to normal. As Konti turned away, he reflected that nothing would ever be normal again. But in spite of the pain of loss, he was not sorry that Kirk had come into his life. Kirk had changed him from the inside out, just by being who he was. And Konti would never be the same. He was profoundly glad.


End file.
